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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335441">Thorns</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dachenabritta/pseuds/dachenabritta'>dachenabritta</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>ALL ABOARD THE ANGST TRAIN, Age Difference, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Dorky Rey, F/M, Growing Up Together, HEA, Jock Ben, Mentions of Infertility, Non-Linear Narrative, Pregnancy, Short Chapters, elements of Sabrina</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 18:49:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>95</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>80,105</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dachenabritta/pseuds/dachenabritta</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rey and Ben are neighbors. Childhood friends. Each other's worlds for only a breath of life.</p><p>Rey and Ben are strangers. The years have passed. They've parted ways.</p><p>Rey has a secret.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Rey &amp; Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1924</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>695</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. October 17th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Something a little different. But of course, angsty.</p><p> </p><p>Please Enjoy<br/>DCB</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Men like Benjamin Solo do not live with their mothers at thirty-three years old.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is nothing like the video-gaming neckbeards that have become of his fellow classmates. Ben is a real man. With a real job. And usually with a real house. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But leasing agents mix up dates on the occasion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His Aston Martin rolls up the slanted concrete of his mother’s house, his childhood home, where puffs of grey smoke spill from the chimney and a humble glow emits from the kitchen window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was home for eighteen years. Now it’s just his makeshift hotel. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least his mother is happy Ben’s here. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He greets her with a peck to the cheek anyways, even after his utterly horrible and exhausting day at the office. Leia’s house is forty miles out from the downtown area too, the drive further depriving him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She serves them both a lackluster meal of heated green beans and leftover chicken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>is one thing Ben has missed. Someone else making him a meal for change. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They dine together in near silence, Leia only asking a few questions and Ben answering in short, barley audible responses. She is distracted by her phone for a solid seven minutes towards the end, until she sets it down when Ben begins to gather up the dishes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you remember Rey Johnson?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What a stupid question. “Of course.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She moved back to the states last week. I guess she got my number from the company list online.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Alright?” Ben doesn’t understand what he’s supposed to do with this information. Rey Johnson is just the scrawny girl who used to live next door. An old friend from days forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey would like to see me. So I thought we should invite her over for dinner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make sure to be out that night th-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia swipes his hand while Ben attempts to grab a plate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, you will be </span>
  <em>
    <span>polite </span>
  </em>
  <span>and dine with us. Don’t be such a stick in the mud. I bet she’s beautiful now, all grown up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben just grumbles. His mother’s matchmaking skills are always so forced and unrewarding. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine. Just let me know when she’ll be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia seems satisfied with his answer, nodding and handing him the last plate of crumbs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just another dinner</span>
  </em>
  <span> Ben tells himself. Another meeting to add to a work calendar so overpacked, it’s threatening to burst day by day. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. June 27th, 2005</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben has finally graduated high school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thought the day would never come. Seriously. Between all the skipped classes and failed exams he expected the worst. But alas, he stands on the creaky stage in the gym, shaking sweaty hands and waving to parents who sag in relief.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re so proud, in fact, that they throw Ben an entire graduation party. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They even let him sip on a beer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Ben doesn't have the heart to tell them that he can slam a beer in under fifteen seconds)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some of his friends show up. Some family members Ben can’t name. Even some neighborhood kids from the block join in. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s an amazing assortment of food and drinks, catered by Leia’s assistant. She even went the extra mile with a shrimp cocktail plate. Ben eats nearly half of it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben and his friends are up on the deck, talking and screwing around. He’s telling some inappropriate joke to Armitage when a few kids in the distance start laughing hysterically down below on the lawn. They peer over in curiosity to see some of the younger boys throwing tropical punch at each other. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>They howl in response to the the laughter and chaos. Boys are stupidly easy to entertain.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One kid seems to just have been caught in the crossfire, though. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s taller than the last time Ben saw her. Which was...when again? The last time they dropped Christmas cookies off at the Johnson’s front door? Halloween? Ben doesn’t know. Or care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey stands there shellshocked, scarlet liquid dripping down her Bobby Jack t-shirt, khaki shorts and grey shoes. It’s the outfit of an absolute dork. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God, is it even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Chris points out. “It’s got the face of a baby and look! Awww, the baby’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>crying </span>
  </em>
  <span>now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s eyes wander back to her skinny face and yes, she is in fact crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels a twinge of </span>
  <em>
    <span>something </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the back of his skull. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Armitage cups hands around his mouth. “Cry harder, little baby! Did the mean boys make a mess?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey glances up to the deck, eyes wide at the much older kids beckoning down to her. The other four boys in his group start to banter on, teasing about her flat chest and cheap shoes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys…” Ben’s eyes waver between his friends and the girl down below. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They continue. And Ben does not like it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Guys!” he barks this time, everyone turned off in an instant. It’s loud enough that the rest of the party stops and stares. They all murmur </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ben making eye contact with his mother, letting her know that things are fine now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>But were they ever fine before?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When he looks back down to the lawn, she’s gone. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. November 29th, 2014</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Today was a rather long day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Between the three shoots in the morning, then the spring/summer fashion week meeting in the afternoon, today felt like it dragged for <em>ages</em>. But it was very productive. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So, Rey celebrates. She’s been cooking for herself for the past few months. When raw produce is as cheap as it is in Paris, there’s no need to go and dine out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey orders whatever the hell she wants. And in perfect French, might she add. When you start leaning at age eleven, it’s quite easy to be fluent by the time you’re twenty-three. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stares out at the gold-lined wallpaper that wraps around the crammed bistro, waiters dashing between tables almost always with a bottle in hand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Typically, Rey will drink a glass a day. Nothing more, nothing less. But then she thinks back to the designs she had green-lit today. The leads she was promoted to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe now is a good time to celebrate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her waiter rounds back and she requests an entire bottle of Merlot. He gladly brings it out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The food is incredible. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain au jour </span>
  </em>
  <span>melts on her tongue with every bite. And she chose the right red because every gulp goes </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>perfectly with the meal that Rey’s almost through half the bottle when the waiter picks up her dish. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking back, Rey will blame the wine. Or the food. Hell, she’ll even blame the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bistro </span>
  </em>
  <span>for being built and erected on that fateful </span>
  <em>
    <span>rue</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the 14th arrondissement. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the only thing she can truly blame is her wandering eyes that so happen to spot a very familiar face. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. August 9th, 1997</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a warm and sunny August afternoon, perfect for just rolling around a bit in the backyard. Neither of Ben’s parents are home and he’s on summer break, bored out of his mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t have any siblings or friends to throw a football around with, so Ben literally just lays in the grass, eyes following the gentle breeze of the clouds. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ten years old is a strange age. He wants to go join the neighborhood kids in their games but they’re all so much younger than him. He’d be the laughing stock if any of his </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends saw him playing around with a bunch of kindergarteners and first graders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He grabs his mom’s volleyball and throws it around a bit. Then Ben’s bored again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Collecting sticks is a good option. So he does that, wandering the yard and collecting his little pile from the grass, bushes and then from the fence that borders their house to the neighbor’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He ventures far down the fence, past the big trees and blackberry bushes. They’re full of berries this time of the year, dark and juicy, so Ben picks a few, blows on them and pops them into his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s when he notices the hole in the corner of the fence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s small, not big enough that he should tell his dad to fix it, but enough for a small dog to get through. Ben looks through it to see a backyard much like his own, but with overgrown grass and trash littered everywhere. He’s never seen their backyard before. Ben has never even </span>
  <em>
    <span>met </span>
  </em>
  <span>the new neighbors. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A slight sniffling comes from the bush right behind him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Startled, Ben comes eye-to-eye with a boy, way younger than him, huddled in the thick sticker bushes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t respond. The little boy has angry, red marks all over his arms and legs, and tears streaming down his tiny face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here,” he extends a hand out to the terrified creature, “I’ll help you out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a slight rustle, then the boy is grabbing his hand, Ben pulling all his weight to detangle the kid. Blood drips down his limbs and a couple spots on his face. Did he fall into the thorns?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing in there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy stares down at the ground. Ben notices he’s shoeless, with plain shorts and a </span>
  <em>
    <span>NASA </span>
  </em>
  <span>shirt on. His hair is unruly and choppy- like it’d been through a shredder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mouth twists. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mommy was mad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For a boy, he sure has a high voice. Like a fairy’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why was she mad? Were you hiding from her?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods. “Yea. I cut my hair. And mommy says everyone will </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>think I’m a boy now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Oh. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben stutters a little. “You’re...you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>a boy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He-</span>
  <em>
    <span>She, </span>
  </em>
  <span>shakes her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mommy says I have to start wearing dresses now because my hair is too short,” she sniffles, “and she put me in time-out. So I came out here. To hide.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben watches a rather large glob of blood run down her skinny leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think this was the best place,” Ben notes. “Why don’t you come hide in my house instead?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She perks up immediately. “Really?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben nods and takes her hand. “Sure. Don’t those cuts hurt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl observes her arms and touches her face. “Oh yea…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries taking a wobbly step, tears still dripping down her face despite the radiating smile adorning it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben always wanted a little brother or sister. He would beg his mom for a baby. Ben would take really good care of a baby. He’d help feed it and give it baths and be the best brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can I carry you?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what a big brother would do, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods, stretching her arms out, as Ben lifts her by her armpits, her bleeding legs wrapping around his torso. Her body is light and thin, so he has no trouble stalking through the grass and climbing up the porch, her chin bony against his shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben sets her down as gently as possible. Some loose hair is still caught on her ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’s your name?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks up, doe eyes shining in the summer light. “I’m Rey. What’s yours?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“My name is Ben. I’m gonna be a fifth grader. How about you? What grade are you in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m in kindergarten.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben would be embarrassed out of his mind if he was found being so </span>
  <em>
    <span>nice </span>
  </em>
  <span>to a kindergartener, no less a </span>
  <em>
    <span>girl, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but for some reason, he finds he doesn’t care. </span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hours later, Leia comes home to find a bandaged, scratched-up five year old napping on her white leather couch, dried blood like rain drops scattered across the pristine surface.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> And Ben, who sits on the other side, watching the little girl sleep peacefully.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. July 10th, 2015</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Vogue compensated extremely well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With almost 50,000 euros in the bank and another 3,000 stashed under her bed in a safe, Rey has enough money to not work for years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Approximately five years or so, according to her accountant. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s summertime in Vézelay, the heat rolling off the soft blades of grass outside her tiny brick home. She doesn’t bother trimming any green on her property since the overgrow is complicated and admirable to gaze at. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>An apple and a knife sit upon her belly; a recent development in balance. First, it was a teacup. Then, a bowl. A plate was the final test of just how round Rey would grow and it hardly teetered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She carves thin slices and plucks them from the blade with sticky fingers. The breeze is light but enough to help with the swell of fire that lies in her bones. Nobody said pregnancy would make you so </span>
  <em>
    <span>warm, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but Rey supposes it just makes sense. It is another person's body heat confined to </span>
  <em>
    <span>your </span>
  </em>
  <span>body heat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another person. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey places her hand lower until it cradles what she supposes is the neck or head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Who will you be?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The baby doesn’t move often. Rey doesn’t know how normal that is. The nearest doctor is almost thirty kilometers away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But whenever the baby </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>move, whether that's a tiny hand against her skin or a kick to the bladder, Rey cries. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s too hard to determine if they’re tears of happiness or tears of grief.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. October 20th, 2002</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just don’t know what to do. His father is never home to tell him off, and he doesn’t bother listening to me anymore.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey squats in the kitchen, hiding behind the island. It’s the second month of school and Leia is visiting, the two women chatting about the current prospects of the year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mom wanted to make sure she had all the correct paperwork for middle school and Leia apparently needs to vent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You said ninth grade was okay though?” Mom asks. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, Benjamin was doing well in school before he became...friends with his current group.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ah. Well, hormones are a tough thing. Maybe he just needs an outlet?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Leia hums, thinking. “I think he has plenty of outlets right now, if you count the sheer amount of weed I found under his bed last month.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What about a daily task? Some type of routine? I know Ben refuses to get a job.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh, don’t even get me started on the job fiasco,” Leia groans. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mom snaps fingers. “I know! Why doesn’t he drop Rey off at school? Pick her up too? I need to start taking longer shifts anyways, so it’d really help.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s heart skips a little too quickly at the thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben-</span>
  </em>
  <span> freshly sixteen, tall and weirdly handsome </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben-</span>
  </em>
  <span> driving and picking her up at school. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s actually...a great idea. I’ll see what he thinks. Or maybe I’ll force him to.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doubts Ben would say yes to driving a lanky and dorky eleven year old to school every day. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>they used to play all the time when she was younger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I wouldn’t want him to be angry at me or you or Rey,” mom laughs. “Rey already has to deal with the boys at school. And it’s only a couple months.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is that so? Have they been bothering her?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes a big gulp. Does Mom really just </span>
  <em>
    <span>discuss </span>
  </em>
  <span>things like this with other people? The whole bullying thing so far has been bad. And </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Rey just doesn’t quite fit in, you know? Never has. It’s not her fault, but tomboys are definitely the easiest to pick on.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>She’s a very pretty girl,” Leia retorts, “but I understand how boys can be. Obviously.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They chat and chat about school and grades, Rey tuning out until the chair legs begin to shuffle. She dashes out of the living room to watch her mom bid goodbye to their neighbor, the door closing softly behind the regal and refined woman. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waits a minute, appearing from the other side of the kitchen. “Yea, Mom?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben from next door might start driving you to school. I want to take some new shifts at the hospital. Is that alright?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes yes yes yes yes </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey just shrugs, hoping to play it cool. “Sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She would have rather said </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. September 3rd, 2018</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s basically a ghost at work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even as the boss, most people walk right past Ben. He’s cold-hearted naturally. Maybe that’s why no one bothers him. Or speaks to him. Or tries to get to know him in the slightest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben tells himself that he doesn’t mind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s better that way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pull yourself away from anything that can attach. Like leeches. Although they’re warm and simple creatures, their warmth only derives from the blood within them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Your </span>
  </em>
  <span>blood. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben would rather not deal with any pests. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits alone in his office, muted eyes grazing over the simple buildings of the city. Perhaps it’ll snow this upcoming winter. Ben’s not sure. But it’s a good topic to bring up whenever he'll inevitably call his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s emails that need to be answered. Calls to be made. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But all Ben Solo can do is stare. Stare into nothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just the abyss of a busy city. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. January 12th, 1999</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“My mom made celery and peanut butter today!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re playing outside, even though the clouds are on the precipice of snow, ready to weep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s shivering slightly. She wants to be like the boys who wear only a flimsy shirt and shorts even in the freezing weather. Being cold </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>cool. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben holds the football as he tells her about the snacks. Leia isn’t usually home to make them but Ben does a good enough job. (She’ll never tell him that his tuna fish and pickle sandwiches suck, though.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay!” she calls out. He grins and throws her the ball in a perfect spiral, Rey having to run out a bit to catch it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s dirt and mud caked all over her shoes. They’re hand-me-downs from Ben, one’s that his mom had forgotten to get rid of, and so is her shirt. And her blue jacket back home. And many other articles of clothing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben said he likes how she looks. The other kids at school make fun of her bobbed, short hair, still choppy from when she went to town on her head over a year ago. Mom makes her wear dresses and skirts to school. But Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>always </span>
  </em>
  <span>wears her comfy boy's clothes when she plays with Ben.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She lands on the grass with a thud, the leather football cradled in her arms. Ben’s jumping for joy across his lawn, proud of her improved skills. The other first graders don’t get to play with Ben.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice catch!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Giving him a toothy grin, Rey jumps up and starts sprinting towards him. She’s been working on her tackling skills even though Ben is double her size and triple her strength. She’ll be able to take him down someday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” he muffles out before Rey is all but slamming into his stomach. Ben’s laughing and laughing at her attempt, holding her by the shoulders as she growls. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mommy says she needs to stop growling. Only dogs and raccoons growl and Rey is neither of those things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He picks her up and sets Rey on his shoulder. She beats the football against his back, laughing and kicking. Ben is invincible. He probably can’t even feel a thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben starts walking on the creaky, wooden steps of his porch. “I’m too hungry. We’re-</span>
  <em>
    <span>ow!- </span>
  </em>
  <span>we’re gonna eat now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey pouts, never stilling her rain of hits with the ball. “I wanna keep playing football, Ben!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He opens the door, completely ignoring her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We can come back outside after we finish our snacks. Don’t be a brat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh, Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>hates </span>
  </em>
  <span>when Ben calls her that. Mommy already says she’s a brat at least once a week. And maybe it’s true. But she’s not letting Ben get away with it. Again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She fights her way off his shoulder until her (Ben’s) light up sneakers hit the floor of the deck. Rey takes off down the steps, Ben shouting at her the entire time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s tears in her eyes when she squeezes back through the hole in the fence. Ben can follow her up until that point. He’s too big to fit through and chase after her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey?” he asks through the hole. She sits scrunched, shivering badly now and watching his pained expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s just out of his reach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He must feel bad. Good. That’ll teach him not to call her any more names. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words twist in his mouth. “I’m...sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey sniffles and wipes her nose. His apology is genuine. Like it always is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll make you hot coco if you come back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hot coco? Now we’re talking. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her smile returns and Rey crawls back through, still a bit hesitant. Ben gives her a look that she can’t quite understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’ll always come back to Ben, Rey realizes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Always. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. November 29th, 2014 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>He orders no food. Just a glass of whatever’s cheapest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Vin. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The word for wine here in France. Ben’s been coming here for years now for the biannual conference First Order holds in the Parisian convention center. Although the main offices are held in South London, the wealthy and disgusting higher ups of his company enjoy the luxury of the French, hardly respecting a tad of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a large swig, against the best wishes of French history and all its people, letting the rare and sour liquid ooze down his throat. Because Ben’s nearly three cups in, he loudly smacks his lips as the wine is drained, the waiter staring him down in disgust. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben does not care. Wine is alcohol. Alcohol is a beautiful downer. And downers make you forget. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They make you forget about your miserable life and job. They make you forget about your Father’s sudden death. Everything and anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The night grows darker and darker, up until the point where the snooty waiter demands Ben order some food in his broken English. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <span><em>Monsieur</em>, you have too much of the drink. You need food or <em>d’eau</em>.</span>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mind is blurry enough that Ben silently agrees and nods. The waiter huffs in final success and wanders off, leaving the hulking, bent man crowded on his table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thoughts, albeit muddled, race through Ben’s mind while he stares down his empty wine glass. He really shouldn’t have deleted Tinder. He shouldn't have dumped his last two girlfriends. What’s the point of having all this money with no time and no one to share it with?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dizzy, he lets his forehead bang against the table. Maybe the food will wake him up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But no. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His awakening comes from the chair across from him creaking every so slightly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The room is literally swimming when Ben’s head lulls up, squinting at the mysterious figure who has suddenly decided to take the seat directly in front of him. The first thing, or rather color, that he sees is black. A black turtleneck that creeps all the way to her jawline, meeting up with bronzed, smooth skin and long, chestnut hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Bonjour</em>,” is all the woman whispers out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben is confused and his head is beginning to burn. He blinks a few times to ensure that this woman is in fact </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>because her features look like they were literally sculpted from marble. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Those hazel eyes...where have I seen them?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s warm and inviting. A postcard model of the beauty the women here hold. Golden hoops hang from her ears. Her eyes are dark and smoky. Red is painted on her lips. The utmost of French aesthetics. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>He can't flirt in this state, so Ben just thrusts a hand out to shake towards her. </p><p> </p><p>"Uh, nice to meet you...?"</p><p> </p><p>Her entire face falls at that. He doesn't understand why. </p><p> </p><p>Nevertheless, she takes his hand, her eyes downcast and fluttering at the table. </p><p> </p><p>"<span>Sylvie. My name is Sylvie."</span></p><p> </p><p>Ben goes to respond but the moment is interrupted by the waiter setting down a dish directly in front of him. <span>Sylvie says something to the man in French and goes to stand up when Ben picks up a fork. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"W-wait!" he says, grabbing her sleeve at the last possible second. "Want to have a drink with me?" He looks down to his food. "Or a bite? Something?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The crestfallen looks appears to ease up as the woman, Sylvie, finally permits him another smile. A smile he <em>knows. </em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>The waiter brings out another bottle of wine. </p><p> </p><p>And <span>Sylvie stays.</span></p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. December 1st, 2002</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Her heart is pounding in her head when Ben’s mustang rolls up to the school’s pickup zone, just like it always does.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s blasting some kind of punk-rock music, Rey is unsure of the band, but who cares? He’s a freaking </span>
  <em>
    <span>high schooler</span>
  </em>
  <span> picking up a loser like herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey idly wonders if this makes her just a bit cooler to the other sixth graders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She practically runs to his car. He doesn’t bother opening the door, but he does make sure it’s unlocked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey loves the comfy leather seats. She loves the smell of his car freshener. She loves the automated windows and stereo. Rey loves-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it. And the looks she gets when crawling into Ben’s car. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He speeds off before letting her buckle. It’s only been about a month of Ben driving her back and forth to school. They don’t really talk. He just plays his music loudly and drives over the speed limit, sometimes clipping the curb with his tires. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey has no idea how Leia convinced him to do this. Maybe because he’s not taking her to the high school? No one there can tease him if they don’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s long, choppy hair obscures a lot of his face. His ears still stick out somewhat, not as much as they used to, and his head is about to nearly hit the roof of the car. He must be six feet tall already. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls into his own driveway. Rey only lives a few paces away. And it’s better than taking the bus by a longshot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Ben!” she says, skipping away, like she always does. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just waves Rey off. Probably not cool if he’s saying goodbye to an eleven year old. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey doesn’t care in the slightest. As long as he keeps giving her rides, she’s happy.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. January 15th, 2015</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Why can’t she stop </span>
  <em>
    <span>puking?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey already deducted that it wasn’t the flu. Or food poisoning. The sickness is daily now-almost every morning for the past week or so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It might be one of her migraine medications or the coffee she’s drinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She towels off her face, the water still running as Rey looks herself in the eyes, the truth red-rimmed and obvious. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey is good at denying things and she will keep doing it until it kills her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She steps out to the chilly January air, Paris already awake and alive. She’s dressed in her Givenchy coat and Jimmy Choo boots, the bronze and black set doing wonders for her skin tone. The shape does well with her leather belt too- a gift from an over-eager designer months ago. It’s probably worth thousands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s quite early, but there’s a shoot she has to make. Potentially, they could secure </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vogue </span>
  </em>
  <span>as a client if all goes well. Rey crosses her fingers the entire walk and metro ride over to the office, excites and ready for the day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...until she pukes </span>
  <em>
    <span>again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>this time into the break room garbage bin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finn’s here early too. A transfer from the London studios, they’d become fast friends. Having someone else whose first language is English helps considerably.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rubs a hand across her back, Rey gagging and dry heaving into the bellowing plastic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey, are you okay? Eat something wrong?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey shakes her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Is she really going to admit this?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I think…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More vomit comes. Is that even </span>
  <em>
    <span>possible? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey collapses against the tile floor. She has meetings today with high-end folks of the fashion industry. People worth millions. People who her career depends on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tears come, even if she wills them not to. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the fate and consequence of a myriad of things: her emotions, her feelings, her </span>
  <em>
    <span>lies, </span>
  </em>
  <span>all of it. It’s just mixing together and exploding. And all Rey can do is sit and let the fire consume her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I think I’m pregnant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Think </span>
  </em>
  <span>is a generous term. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>she is pregnant. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. March 5th, 2010</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Snoke hums over the phone, his voice cackling through the speaker. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m very pleased with your application, Solo. You’ve been a solid intern here at First Order.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben grips the kitchen table, nerves running through his blood like a wildfire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re looking to onboard you as soon as possible.” Snoke sighs and there’s the sound of shuffling paper through the phone. “You graduate in three months, correct?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. I’ll be obtaining my bachelor’s then.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Four years of grueling school and an internship that has nearly killed him. Ben is hoping all of this will pay off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hoping. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How wonderful. Starting salary will be $70,000 this year with yearly raises and benefits, including a 401K. We only request one thing when you’ve completed your transition from interning to employment.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben gulps. He looks around his shitty apartment, barley funded by the meek wage he’s paid for the insane amount of work he does. Leia says First Order has just been using him. But the money will be doing the talking instead now. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s...great. Thank you so much, Mr. Snoke. What is it that you need me to do?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gruffs, and then it sounds as if Snoke has risen from a chair or armchair. The man is tall and overpowering, one of the only people Ben is truly afraid of in this world. But he took in Ben when he was desperate for a job. Desperate for experience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop speaking to that bum father of yours.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben takes in an icy breath, </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>expecting anything like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“His junk business is creating problems for us and when we inevitably must sue, I can’t have any relationships...</span>
  <em>
    <span>interfere.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s unsure how to answer. Leia will be livid if he says such. But Han is never around anyways. So maybe it’s not much of a reach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can do that,” Ben breathes. He needs this job. He never needed his father.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I expect to see you this Monday, 7 am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The phone crashes into the dial tone, Snoke ending the conversation like a quick death.  </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. May 21st, 2003</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW// Recreational drugs, mild violence</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">It’s a Saturday when she sees him.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">The weekend is the only two days Rey hardly sees Ben aside from their twice daily rides. It makes her detest Saturday and Sunday.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">So, Rey is delighted to see Ben at the park, out of all places. He has his hands shoved into his pockets and he looks cautiously around, almost like he’s being followed. Rey just watches him afar from the swing she sways in, curious.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">He goes over to one of the park benches and...drops something? It’s a little plastic bag. Two of them, actually. Ben hides it carefully behind one of the green bench legs.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">What is he doing?</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Then, he looks both ways across the park, huffs and takes back off to the parking lot aside to the grassy park. His mustang is parked on the farthest end, away from the sidewalk and towards the forest.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Rey keeps swinging, watching the entire thing happen.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">His car doesn't leave. It looks like Ben is waiting for someone or something. Rey wants to go over and ask him what’s up, like cool teenagers do, but the thought is interrupted when she sees a group of boys, close to Ben's age, approach the bench.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">They look around it and then crouch down, fishing behind the leg. They find one of the bags.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Rey is ridiculously confused at this point, not understanding who these people are, or what Ben is giving them. The minute the group of boys leave, Rey jumps off the swing and runs over to the bench, pawing around the ground for the second bag.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">It has...green stuff in it. It looks kinda like oregano.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">She opens it and sniffs and <em>wow</em>, this stuff stinks. Ben is apparently selling gross, smelly, seasoning packets under a park bench in the middle of the day. And he calls<em> her</em> weird.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Rey dumps some out into her palms and goes to taste it. She almost gags. It’s musty and earthy and not in the right way.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">"Hey!"</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">She looks up, shoulders hunched. Someone's barking down at her.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">It’s not Ben.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">A group of two guys and two girls stare down at Rey, who sits with her back to the bench's leg, her hand full of the green stuff. And they do not look happy.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">"I’m sorry," she tries sputtering, "is this yo-"</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Her voice turns into a yelp as Rey is lifted from the ground by her jacket, the green stuff falling to the ground to join the evergreen grass. Her armpits hurt from the fabric holding her up.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">"What the fuck are you doing with that? Aren’t you old enough to know not to touch other people’s shit?"</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">She's panicking and thrashing. This boy looks ready to kill. "I-I am! I’m twe-"</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Rey doesn’t expect the uppercut across her jaw.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">It sends blood and spit flying from her mouth as a few kids from the park scream at the scene. The boy drops her to the ground and her knees buckle from the force, leaving Rey in a pile. She hears the older girls say something along the lines of "<em>S</em><em>top Marcus! She’s just a kid!"</em> but it’s obviously ignored when he starts kicking her in the stomach. Then the shins. Then the chest.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">It hurts.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">There’s a blur of someone suddenly tackling the boy to the ground with a growl. There’s too many spots in her vision to tell who.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">Rey just huddles into herself, blood dripping from the corner of her mouth, the sounds of fighting and yelling filling the air.</p><p class="p3"> </p><p class="p2">She passes out.</p><p class="p2"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. October 19th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Mom</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’re going over to Rey’s instead. Saturday, 8 pm</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His phone buzzes and lights up on his desk as Ben wraps up the email he was drafting. Reading the message quickly, he pockets his phone and hits </span>
  <em>
    <span>send </span>
  </em>
  <span>on his laptop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben was already annoyed enough that they were going to have a guest. He hates small talk. And his mother is ridiculously fake when catching up with old acquaintances. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sighs. At least it sounds like he won’t have to help cook. Or clean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It isn’t until he’s in the garage, unlocking his car when Ben pulls his phone out again to text back Leia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ok</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Sent</em>
  </strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s going to be angry about his lackluster response, but whatever. Beggars aren’t choosers. Leia should be lucky he’s even agreeing to play along. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He idly wonders about Rey on the drive home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her parents passed away some time ago, Ben’s unsure when, but she’d gone to live abroad shortly after. The last time he’d seen her, she was a complete mess. But that had been at a funeral. And Rey was not taking care of herself, according to Leia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben hopes she’s doing better. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey was a little shit as a child. He definitely remembers </span>
  <em>
    <span>that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Gap-toothed, always in ratty boys clothes and seemingly possessed by a wild animal, Ben hadn’t ever met anyone like Rey at the time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He remembers giving her rides back and forth to school for a while too. Until he’d refused to anymore. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thinking back to high school always makes Ben cringe. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hopefully his mother or Rey doesn’t bring anything up. It was all ages ago anyways. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>The </span>
  <span>Aston Martin</span>
  <span> drives back towards Leia’s house, weaving through clogged traffic and honking horns. The noises make his head want to burst.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. August 6th, 2015</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW// Childbirth</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Soup settles on the stove, even though it’s the hottest, most sweltering day of August. It sounded good and Rey is essentially a slave to her cravings that ignore all terms of logic.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">But the soup is boiling over now, the broth creeping and spilling all over the stove top as Rey lays collapsed on the floor of her kitchen, screaming in pain.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">She wasn’t supposed to be here until next month.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">There’s blood and water everywhere. She can’t move or talk. Rey just lets the agony pulse through her bones, the phone too far away.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The doctor is too far away too. There’s no way anyone will make it in time.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">With a shaky hand, Rey pulls the kitchen towel off the counter and places it between her legs which seep and cry too. She can feel herself open and it’s a pain no person should go through alone and unmedicated.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Another contraction hits. Her screams are almost silent. <em>Almost.</em></p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">She has enough to sense between the contractions to turn off the stove, afraid she’ll burn down the house with her and newborn in it.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The breeze wafts in through the back door. There’s a hint of lavender in the air.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">It’s peace until she feels her daughter truly coming.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">She does what she’s seen in movies and read in books. Rey always imagined this moment would be in a hospital, her mother by one side and her husband at the other, twin grips in her hands.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">But her mother is dead and the father is...</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">The thought is abruptly cut off when Rey screams her throat horse with another painful push.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Another scream joins hers.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">She looks down past the mess that’s between her legs and swollen stomach, head dizzy and world lurching.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">
  <em>What am I supposed to do now?</em>
</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Her daughter has black hair; wet and clinging to her little head. She doesn’t realize it, but Rey starts crying as she brings the tiny, wriggling thing up to her chest. The cord is still attached. Rey could be bleeding out. There could be something wrong with the baby.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">But she can’t focus on any of that.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p2">Rey can only lay there and cry, carefully cradling her past, present and future.</p><p class="p1"> </p><p class="p1"> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. May 21st, 2003 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW// Hospital</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not driving that little shit around anymore.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben sits in a hard, plastic chair next to his mother. It’s loud in the local police station, so it feels like he's shouting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben is in handcuffs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia has already yelled and screamed at him. Nobody wants a call on a Saturday afternoon informing you that your son has been caught not only dealing drugs, but also fighting his customers. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“First of all, <em>don't </em>call Rey a little shit. And second, I doubt she’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to be driven around by you after this,” Leia huffs. “You’re the reason she’s currently admitted to Saint Micheal's.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> strikes the last nerve in Ben. He hadn’t seen her on the playground. He’d been too far away to watch Antonio or Marcus pick up their packages. There is no way Ben would have predicted </span>
  <em>
    <span>Rey</span>
  </em>
  <span> following his trail and for some godforsaken reason, </span>
  <em>
    <span>opening </span>
  </em>
  <span>the bag. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He understands Marcus’s anger, sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What he doesn’t understand though, is why he would beat up a twelve-year-old girl bad enough to send her to the hospital. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>okay Mom?” His cuffs clank as Ben whips over to face Leia. “I didn’t think she’d fucking open the bag and start <em>eating</em> it and it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>Marcus </span>
  </em>
  <span>who beat the shit out of her-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>also </span>
  </em>
  <span>in the hospital, Benjamin! Don’t you understand that </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> set off this entire chain of events? It’s a domino effect!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hangs his head in shame, not because of Marcus. That bastard deserved every knocked-out tooth and broken rib. Every crunch under his fists was pure satisfaction. Ben would’ve killed him if he’d done irreversible damage to a kid. To <em>Rey.</em></span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It sounds like he’s half-dead anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia takes a deep breath. Ben doesn’t know what else to say. He’s hoping she can talk her way out of juvie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re grounded until I say so.” He can tell she’s trying to hold back tears. “And you’re apologizing to Rey and her family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben mumbles out a </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes,</span>
  </em>
  <span> wipes some of the dried blood from his nose and</span>
  <span> listens to an officer call his name. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s released with no charges, but owes a hundred hours of community service, no thanks to Leia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They drive over to Saint Micheal's, a balloon and gift bag already in the car. His mustang is still at the park, forgotten between the chaos and sirens and screaming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben hangs his head down the entire time. He’s embarrassed. Ashamed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s parents are both in the room with her, eating some hospital food when they enter. Leia greets them both with a hug and Mr. Johnson approaches Ben. He just keeps staring down at his shoes. He doesn’t want to say anything. Ben will just make things worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mr. Johnson doesn’t say anything either. Just claps a hand on his shoulder and motions his head to the bed. Ben looks up and over to see the fragile girl asleep, bandages on her face and bruises all along her arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey looks like shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He can’t even imagine what Marcus looks like. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His feet move without Ben even realizing. He stops at her bedside, grazing down the spots of purple and yellow. There’s a nasty mark along her jaw, which is thankfully not broken, and scratches scatter her brows and cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It reminds him when he found her in the blackberry bushes amongst the thorns, years ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one says anything. Or maybe they’re talking. Ben can’t tell. He just keeps following the trail of blood and bruises. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” is all Ben can whisper. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. October 26th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey lives in a small apartment complex. It’s a few miles from her old house and Leia’s house, in a part of town that most would consider middle-class. They take the elevator up to the fourth floor, a casserole in Leia’s hands and a bottle of wine in Ben’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a nice place. Not really the standard Ben would particularly enjoy, but she’s not the one currently crashing in his mother’s house. Though, it appears Rey doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. The Johnson’s house was apparently sold years ago, right after they’d died and Rey had left for Italy or Russia or wherever she went. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia rasps on the metal door loudly. There’s some clattering. A few steps. Then the door’s yanked open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi Le-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey stands in the doorframe, one hand on the knob, the other against her hip. She’s in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, hair chopped short like it’s forever been and Ben suddenly feels extremely overdressed in his jacket and suit pants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles down at his mother, and something in his heart skips or stutters, because holy shit, Leia wasn’t kidding- Rey really grew up and she’s one of the most beaut-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, fuck!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s thrown from his trance when Rey meets his eyes and nearly screams the expletive. They’re wider than saucers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door suddenly slams closed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia blinks a couple times and looks up to Ben, just as confused. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What...was that?” She turns back to the door and knocks a few more times. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More clattering ensues. It’s chilly outside here in the autumn air, so Ben hops a bit in place, trying to keep his blood at least pumping. Even though he already feels warm. So very warm. Almost hot-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door flies open. Again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hi! Sorry about that!” Rey is sweating slightly and there’s an extra labored breath in every word. She looks up to Ben, then immediately darts her eyes back to Leia, still obscenely wide. “I didn’t know you were going to bring...uh. I d-didn’t know Ben was coming tonight.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s brows shoot up to his hairline. “I wasn’t invited?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia pushes the casserole towards Rey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here you go honey.” She’s obviously trying to distract. “Old family recipe of ours.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gulps and takes the casserole pan with slightly shaky hands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is...um. Thanks Leia.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three of them remain awkwardly frozen. Ben’s staring at Rey, taking in the slopes of her neck and jawline. Rey’s staring down at the casserole and attempting to breathe. And Leia is well…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we come in?” Leia Organa-Solo is not a woman to be left unattended. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey opens the door wider with her shoulder and motions them both in. Ben is the last to enter and lets the door slam shut. They head into the apartment, boxes and bags cluttering the small entryway. Rey leads them to the kitchen, where at least the essentials are unpacked. There’s only two plates out. Two glasses. Two placemats. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She really wasn’t expecting Ben. At all. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wow</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this is-'' Rey stutters for words while setting the casserole down on the table. “It’s good to see you guys again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia breaks and wraps her in a tight hug. “It’s wonderful to see you too, sweetheart! You’ve been away far too long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother always said she thought of Rey as a niece or daughter. That thought apparently still holds true, judging by the way she cradles her head during their embrace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey is the first one to break away and for a second, Ben fears she’ll approach him for a hug as well, but instead, she unwraps the foil of the casserole and continues chatting with Leia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not disappointed. Ben’s relieved. Of course. He’s not a hugging person anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought we were going to have a girls night, Leia,” she says, balling up the foil and tossing it to a pile of trash on the counter, “and I’m not really wearing the right-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey, it’s okay.” Leia stills her lithe arms, old hands wrapping around tanned wrists. They’re scrambling around the table nervously. “I told him not to wear the suit, but you know Ben.” She laughs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey does not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea.” She whispers, hazel eyes meeting him. “I guess I do know Ben.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sucks in a breath. A horrible thing strikes him. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>Ben knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>about Rey.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. April 16th, 2001</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Mom gave Ben </span>
  <em>
    <span>twenty whole dollars </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the grocery store. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Twenty. Whole. Dollars. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friends </span>
  <em>
    <span>ooo</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>ahh</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the paper bill. No one has allowances that’ll give them an entire twenty dollar bill. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben feels like a grownup, wandering the frozen food aisle for the pizza rolls and bagel bites. Tonight, Ben and his friends are dining like </span>
  <em>
    <span>kings. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They load up their hand basket with all the junk food they can carry. With Tony’s ten dollar bill and Sam’s fifteen, they should be plenty covered. No one’s mom had to drop them off either. They all biked here by themselves. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A little voice suddenly beckons from behind them and he knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly </span>
  </em>
  <span>who it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His friends all fall silent. They turn too to see the nine year old, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>third grader, </span>
  </em>
  <span>who apparently knows Ben. She’s clinging to her mom’s cart, her tiny fingers interlaced with the metal bars. Mrs. Johnson is down the aisle, riffling through the frozen vegetables. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tony shoves at his arm. “Why does this pipsqueak know your name, Benny?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks at his group and raises a brow. Rey wouldn’t know a single person here. They’re all eighth graders. And Rey is his secret; his friend that could never be if anyone knew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was never a decision </span>
  <em>
    <span>to</span>
  </em>
  <span> be made. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben shrugs. “Don’t know the brat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s taken aback immediately. He can already see the tears at bay. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh-what? Ben? What are you talking about?” She lets go of the cart and creeps closer to him, his friends clearing her path like she’s some diseased creature. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben does what he needs to do. To save himself. His reputation. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>shoves </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her butt falls to the polished concrete and his friends start laughing at her tears. Mrs. Johnson doesn’t notice anything is happening when Ben quickly checks. But she will when Rey starts screaming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Ben knows Rey. And Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>scream. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get out of here guys.” Ben drops the basket on the ground and starts pawing at their jackets. “We’re in deep shit if her mom sees us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all agree when Rey’s sobs amplify in volume. They turn and run.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s already at the automatic doors when he hears her shrill voice echo across the aisles.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. November 30th, 2014</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s all a drunken haze when Ben tries to think about it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This woman, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvie, </span>
  </em>
  <span>spoke nearly perfect English, her hint of French lingering on each word. Her voice dripped with flirtation, even smoother than the wine he’d been practically chugging since he entered the bistro. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So naturally, when Sylvie asks to </span>
  <em>
    <span>leave here with me, </span>
  </em>
  <span>how can Ben refuse?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s quite intoxicated too, judging by her zig-zag steps as they both practically stumble three blocks over to Ben’s hotel. He’s been booked in far nicer places before, but there had been a mix up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>According to her though, it’s one of the most <em>merveilleux</em></span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>places she’s ever entered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben hastily unlocks the door to his room and almost collapses into the hallway, Sylvie only a few steps away, giggling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It becomes a blur too quickly. One minute he’s opening up yet </span>
  <em>
    <span>another </span>
  </em>
  <span>bottle of wine for them to overindulge in- the next moment, they’re both naked on the hotel’s king size mattress. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her body is even better than Ben had imagined under that thick sweater and leggings. Parisian beauty really is something else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s pawing at his chest and tipsy-grabbing for his hair as Ben kisses up and down her long, lean neck. He sucks as many bruises as possible because the part of his brain that says </span>
  <em>
    <span>no </span>
  </em>
  <span>typically to that, is shut off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Actually, most of his brain is a dead battery.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Sylvie, can I-I…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben tries to ask permission to slide into her hot, wet warmth, but it’s all coming out mumbled. He watches her nod, hazel eyes drooped and laced with such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>familiarity </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Ben wishes he was sober enough to recognize her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How would Ben know a random French woman he met at a bistro? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t. That’s the only answer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both cry out when Ben bottoms out, Sylvie relaxed atop him. She cranes her neck back so far, her long locks nearly kiss her back dimples.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too much is happening; too many </span>
  <em>
    <span>sensations </span>
  </em>
  <span>are happening, and his body is much quicker than his brain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It must take minutes until Ben realizes she’s not in control at all despite being on top- he'd grabbed her hips a while ago and is thrusting so hard, that the poor girl is crying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And the worst part? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He can’t stop.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I’m sorry, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>-” Ben tries to will his hips to calm the fuck down but she feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>too damn good. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the fog of sweat and lust and sex, Sylvie grabs each side of his face and brings her forehead to his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a-alright, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>ah! </span>
  </em>
  <span>I-I’m not in pain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why is she looking at him like that? Why is this woman being so...intimate? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He just keeps pounding, heart racing and forehead pulsing from dehydration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing that pulls him from his reverie is when she comes, her legs locking painfully around his hips and tears now falling freely onto his chest. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben Ben Ben Ben…</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes softly soon after, listening to Sylvie chant his name like a prayer. Sleep comes quickly since they’re both relaxed; her head tucked pliantly under his chin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben only has enough sense and coherency to question one thing about any of this while his mind blacks out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>When did he tell her his name was Ben?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. October 26th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Amazing moodboard by the LOML, <a href="https://twitter.com/justsunshinerey/status/1343302042400542721">Bee!</a> Please go check it out!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>They dine in complete silence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Forks scrape and Ben starts to chug the wine, seeing that neither his mother or Rey has opted to drink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is </span>
  <em>
    <span>horribly </span>
  </em>
  <span>awkward. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben tries to avoid checking Rey out at every opportunity. She’s already caught him staring a few times, a blush now flooding his cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia asks about her work, shattering the quiet like glass. Rey’s currently in between jobs but she was a set designer in France. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“France?” Ben asks, the first word he’s said since they sat down and started eating. “Were you in Paris?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her bite stops mid-way to her mouth. “Um. Yes. I was in Paris in Île Saint-Louis. And then Vézelay for the past couple years.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Vézelay? I’ve never heard of it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She opts to just set the fork down. “It’s south of Paris.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What were you doing out there, Rey?” his mother asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s apparently the wrong thing to say because Rey suddenly stands up and grabs her glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anyone want some water or milk?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia blinks. Everything about tonight and this dinner has been...odd.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take some water,” the older woman says, handing Rey her glass. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sliding door to the main kitchen slams shut, leaving the guests confused and bereft. Ben leans in to whisper to his mother’s ear. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What were you and Rey supposed to be talking about? Is that the reason she’s so jumpy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mom just shrugs. “Beats me. Haven’t heard from her for a while. She told me she had some big news.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Big news?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben leans back in his chair, eyes wandering the tiny dining room. A few boxes are stacked in the corner. He peers farther out to the hallway and into the living room, observing more boxes and toters and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben exclaims as he catches the white, emotionless mask of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason Fucking Voorhees </span>
  </em>
  <span>peering at him from the darkened living room. He jumps a little in his seat, the cursing and loud bang drawing the attention solely to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey rips open the door and freezes immediately. Leia turns and catches what he’s seen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my.” Leia chuckles. “That’s...quite the look there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It takes a second for Ben’s eyes to adjust to the dark, but when they do, he realizes the mask is on a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>small body. Just standing there, watching them all eat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What the hell?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey, who is that?” Leia asks, turning around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey whistles a sing-song pitch and sits back down, the little figure emerging from the dark. It’s a child, a little girl, judging by her blue pajama dress, and wearing a fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason </span>
  </em>
  <span>mask over her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The little girl runs up and practically jumps into Rey’s lap. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is Amelia. Amelia…” she turns the little girl around. Two tiny eyes hid behind plastic, boring straight through Ben, “this is Ben and Leia. </span>
  <em>
    <span>J'habitais à côté d'eux.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t understand the last part but Amelia keeps twisting her head back and forth to look at both Ben and Leia.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Allo,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” a squeaky voice says. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey has a child?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t know you had a daughter,” Leia says, clearing her throat hesitantly. “I’m surprised you didn’t say anything over the phone. Or when we arrived. Or...anytime after that, actually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey nervously gulps. “Uh. Yea. That’s what I was going to talk to you about, Leia. Amelia is very special.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben blows a breath from his nose and speaks before thinking. </span>
  <span>“Judging by the creepy Jason mask, I’d say she’s something more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>special.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Amelia cries out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Benjamin!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>his mother says at the same time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia swats him hard against the chest in punishment. He should really watch his tongue. And he shouldn't be staring.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Ben’s eyes </span>
  <em>
    <span>can’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>leave Rey and the little girl wiggling and singing </span>
  <em>
    <span>Jason, Ja-son, Jason, Jason</span>
  </em>
  <span>! like it's the Seasme Street theme song.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amelia really likes horror movies,” Rey says quietly. She hushes Amelia with a hand smoothing down her hair. Her very </span>
  <em>
    <span>dark</span>
  </em>
  <span> hair. “We only had a VCR in Vézelay. And the only tapes we had were </span>
  <span>Friday the 13th and Nightmare on Elm Street.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She must be a brave little girl, then.” Leia's mood goes instantly from punishing to enchanting. She’s mesmerized by the girl too, although she’s trying to hide it by bringing the glass of water to her lips. “To be watching all those scary things so young.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia’s hand smacks down hard to the bare table. The glasses and plates rattle. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maman says I can have Freddy sweater </span>
  <em>
    <span>pour </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Noël!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Her French-English is muffled slightly by the mask. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben can't help but laugh at her squeaky tone. Amelia’s voice reminds him of Rey’s from long, long ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A voice Ben thought he’d forgotten.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. February 2nd, 2011</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW// There are several triggers including death, suicidal thoughts/tendencies, funerals and alcohol poisoning. Please read chapter summary in end notes if you need to skip this one.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Raindrops fall onto bouquets of white flowers, black umbrellas and two matching mahogany caskets. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leia holds her close, Rey watching as both her parents are lowered into the earth, down to their eternal resting places, leaving behind a world that doesn’t make sense anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She used to believe in God. That belief has since been shattered. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>At nineteen, Rey is the only next of kin for any of her family. She has no uncles or aunts. Both sets of grandparents have been dead for years. Rey is utterly and truly alone now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alone. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s muted. Numb. But when Rey hears the final thud of her parents hitting the ground, the priest speaking softly of prayers and memories, something in her breaks. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leia’s shoulder is her only comfort as Rey sobs soundlessly into it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her umbrella falls from her grasp and the rain drops mix with her salty tears. Leia is saying something to her but it sounds muffled, almost like she’s underwater. Maybe she could drown herself. It’d be a quick, albeit painful death. But then she could see Mom and Dad again. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Things and people shuffle. Rey doesn’t remember getting into Han’s car or driving over to the wake. She can’t even feel her feet anymore. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Han and Leia are the only reason she’s probably alive right now. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’d been the first ones to find her that day. Leia was always the emergency contact, but Rey had been the first one to get a call. And learning that both your parents were instantly killed by a drunk driver going the wrong way on the freeway will do... things to people. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>For Rey, that thing was drinking as much whiskey and vodka she could dig up from her parent’s liquor cabinet. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Han had to break down the door when Rey hadn’t answered it or any of the numerous calls. She can’t remember any of it but they’d found her slumped at the dining room table, the bottles empty and Rey choking on her own vomit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The wake is simple. Or it’s extravagant. Rey has no idea. A few familiar faces approach her with condolences and she just nods, unable to even mumble a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Another face is watching her from across the room. One that’s far more known.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben stands amongst the crowd, not talking but just staring at Rey. He's somehow taller than before, hair nearly to his shoulders and black suit straining his chest. Leia is trying to say something but stills when she notices the intense gaze between the two. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Sweetheart,” Leia says softly, “do you want Ben to come over here? Do you want to talk to him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey’s puffy eyes never stray from his. They used to be able to communicate like this. When they weren’t just Ben from next door and Rey the kid neighbor. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Does</span>
  </em>
  <span> she want to talk to him? They haven’t spoken for years. Since Ben left for school. Or most likely before that.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p><span>Rey nods. She decides she</span> <span>wants to hear Ben’s voice again more than anything. </span></p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’ll be only a small comfort to this hell she’s been thrust into. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leia pats her arm in sympathy. “Okay, I’ll go-” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both watch helplessly as Ben breaks their gaze, dumps his plate of food onto a nearby table and walks directly out of the room, until he’s hitting the front door and letting it close behind him. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s struck into silence. Both women are. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And reality hits Rey. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>What else was she expecting? For Ben to skip over to her and wallow in her self pity? To become her knight and shining armor? For him to come and cradle her head close and whisper that things </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>get better?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey really is a fool. She’s always been, all these years.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>
  <i>Chapter summary<br/>Rey's parents die in a car crash due to a drunk driver. When she finds out, she nearly kills herself drinking and then choking on her own vomit. Rey also fantasizes about drowning and killing herself. The chapter takes place during a funeral and wake the entire time. </i>
</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. October 26th, 2019 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I adjusted the chapter names to help out with re-reading.<br/>Too many dates lol :/</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben watches the streetlights pass with every mile back to Leia’s house. She’d insisted on driving and it’s a good thing she did, seeing as Ben drank nearly three quarters of the bottle of red. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a weird riff in the air. </p><p> </p><p>The riff is most likely named <em> Rey.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Or maybe <em> Amelia.  </em></p><p> </p><p>They didn't really discuss much during or after the dinner. Just small talk about job hunting and local schools. Nothing was pried open. Nobody overstepped any unspoken lines.</p><p> </p><p>Leia drums her fingers on the wheel, apparently waiting for Ben to say something. When he doesn’t, she sighs exorbitantly and shakes her head in disappointment, her diamond earrings swaying. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>What? </em>” Ben finally grits out through clenched teeth. He hates it when she does the silent attitude thing.</p><p> </p><p>Leia stops at the light and looks over, a brow raised. </p><p> </p><p>“You were in Paris five years ago, were you not?”</p><p> </p><p>He gives her a quizzical look back. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh...yes?” Ben runs a hand through his hair and turns back to face the road. “Like I am every two years. Why are you asking?”</p><p> </p><p>“No reason in particular.”</p><p> </p><p>The light turns green. Leia throttles the gas pedal. </p><p> </p><p>She’s playing her weird old people music again. Her “hippie jams” Han called them. And they’re the only thing playing to defuse the tension within the car.</p><p> </p><p>Tension you could practically <em> slice.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“There’s obviously a reason if you need to bring up the topic so dramatically, Mom,” Ben snaps. “It was already a painful enough dinner. One I was <em> not </em>invited to, might I add.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia sighs. “I wanted to surprise her, okay? You may not be aware of this little tidbit, but Rey was totally, if not completely, in love with you all through elementary and middle school. Maybe even high school, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben’s hand stops in his hair. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“She’s...what are you talking about?” Ben huffs and looks out the window, double checking his reflection. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>The tips of his ears are a little pink. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Rey’s a lesbian,” he says like it’s a matter of face. Because it is. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Ben’s startled by Leia’s sharp laugh. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“<em>Lesbian </em> ?” she wheezes. “You think Rey Johnson is <em> gay? </em>”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Well…”</p><p> </p><p>He thinks back to her torn and stained boys clothes. Usually all hand-me-downs from when he was a kid. He thinks about playing football and soccer and tag and all the other butchy shit they used to do together as kids. Ben thinks of her pixie cuts and bobs. She never wore makeup or cared about her appearance. The fact that she never talked about any crushes on any boys <em> ever.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben shifts awkwardly in his seat. “....I guess I <em> did. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Leia’s laughs die down as they begin to approach her driveway. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m beginning to think there’s a lot more about Rey that you don’t know about, Benjamin. You said you haven’t seen her since the funeral, correct?”</p><p> </p><p>Ben thinks back. She was in Europe and he’d been working all over the place at First Order. He would have <em> known </em>if they crossed paths.</p><p> </p><p>Right?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. It would have been at the funeral.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re <em> sure?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben almost growls. He’s tired and tipsy. And he doesn't understand the point she’s trying to make.</p><p> </p><p> “Yes, Mother.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia hums and looks distantly off to the lawn, past the overgrow and to the Johnson's old house. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia is quite the spitfire.”</p><p> </p><p>He almost feels the whiplash from how fast his mother veers the conversation. </p><p> </p><p>But Ben only shrugs, acting nonchalantly instead. He’s trying not to think about Rey or Amelia, honestly. His heart keeps dropping for some reason whenever he does. </p><p> </p><p>“Kind of a strange kid, if you want my professional opinion.”</p><p> </p><p>His ignorance hangs in the air once again, like Leia has figured out a puzzle that Ben is still blinded to. From the soft eyes and warm expressions, to the nervous glances and quiet words, there’s <em> something </em> about Rey that Ben is severely missing. </p><p> </p><p>His mother doesn’t ask any more questions that night.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. November 30th, 2014 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>She regrets it all the second he falls asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world spins on an axis. And it spins too fast. Too fast for Rey to follow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sylvie? Seriously? </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The name sounds fake even to her ears. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey rolls off of him and cranks her neck up to his sleeping face.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even with the sheer amount of alcohol coating her mind and hazing her vision, Rey has enough sense to cry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What have I done?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey has lied to the only man she has ever loved. Will probably only </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever</span>
  </em>
  <span> love. Her heart is a stubborn one. Rey hates it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gathers her clothes in a stumbling mess, wiping tears as she does so. Rey prays the metro is open this late at night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’s letting the door slowly close, there’s a slight hope that keeps her from collapsing against the wall and weeping where she stands. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hope that he’ll wake up sober and hungover, but aware. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Aware of who he spent the night with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A hope that she’ll get a call. Or a text. Or a letter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without needing to leave a number on the bedside table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey clings onto that small hope like it’s a branch hanging off the side of a river that she’s drowning in. The rapids beat against her back but she just holds tight, knowing that someone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>somewhere, </span>
  </em>
  <span>will come to save her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hopes that Ben Solo will remember Rey Johnson. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. July 16th, 1999</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I am reading each and every one of your comments! Thank you ALL so much for your support on this fic! I will answer them ASAP but I'm trying to use the time to keep pumping out more chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The sun beats down hard and hot, most likely because it’s made out of lava. Rey’s not sure that’s true but Ben told her it was. So it must be. </p><p> </p><p>The gold rays fan across the Solo Organa’s lawn and across Ben and Rey’s faces. </p><p> </p><p>Who are both trying to stare at the big ball of fire as long as humanly possible. </p><p> </p><p>“...eleven, twelve, thir- <em> ow!” </em>Ben shrieks, but still laughing. He covers his eyes while Rey continues to count. “It hurts!”</p><p> </p><p>She can feel her own eyes water, until she’s weeping. But she keeps staring, hyper-focused. </p><p> </p><p>“...fifteen, sixteen, <em> urgh! Ow!” </em>She taps out. Sixteen seconds is her new record. </p><p> </p><p>Both of them are huddled into balls, grasping their poor, scorched eyelids and crying. It’s such a stupid game. They both know it. But it’s not going to keep them from playing. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ben</em>,” Rey starts, trying to blink. There’s big, black spots whenever she tries to look down at the grass or at her shoes. “I don’t think this game is very good for our eyes.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben’s whining next to her. Apparently his eyes are <em> much </em>more sensitive than Rey’s. </p><p> </p><p>He sniffles. “Yea. Maybe we should listen to my Dad. He told me that he almost went blind from watching the sun when he would stay in the desert.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s jaw drops. “You knew that and didn’t say anything?!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Have they done irreversible damage? Will Rey need coke-bottle glasses like Ms. Kanata has? What will Mommy say if she’s blinded herself- on purpose? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She’s crying in earnest now. </p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m gonna be b-blind now…” Rey falls on the ground, face first into the grass. The ground is like an earthly, green quilt. The dirt is soft enough to press her forehead into and sob. </p><p> </p><p>She already feels her eyeballs breaking. The nerves are fried. Rey will only be able to see black the rest of her life. Or maybe just<em> nothing.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Rey,” Ben shakes her back. But she shakes her head. He’s probably blind now too. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Rey.</em>” </p><p> </p><p>She surges up, fuming at the seams and-</p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey can see <em> perfectly </em>fine. </p><p> </p><p>She can see Ben’s warm face. His warm smile. The reflection of sunlight bouncing off his shiny black hair that Rey is absolutely <em> not </em>jealous of. No way, José.</p><p> </p><p>“I told you, Rey. It won’t make us blind.” He shrugs. “I think my Dad was just trying to scare us.”</p><p> </p><p>That sounds like Han. He’s not around much, but from the times Rey has met him, he’s a bit of a ruthless jokester. Also, his car is cool. It’s got a cool name. The <em> Falcon.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Should we keep playing then?” Rey asks. They’ve already played soccer today. And Rey has the kiddie pool set up in her backyard but their swimsuits are still too damp. </p><p> </p><p>“You wanna play ‘stare at the sun’ <em>again </em>?” There’s tear tracks all the ways down his face and dribbling off his chin. “Isn’t that gonna hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>Yes. It most definitely will. But Rey knows how much Ben loves this game. Even if her retinas are being burned to a crisp every time. </p><p> </p><p>“Nah. I’ll countdown this time.”</p><p> </p><p>She closes her eyes, bracing for the pain. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>One... </em></p><p> </p><p>Her fingernails dig into her palms, forming little crescents that will scar.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "t</em>
  <em>wo..." </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey's leg jiggles. She hates counting down. That's why she usually makes Ben do it. It makes her anxious.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "three!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It stings but Ben’s laughter in between counting his numbers makes up for it.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N<br/>Do NOT do this omg. Ben and Rey are stupid kids.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. March 5th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hair is black, much like the solitude of a silent night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s wavy and full of texture, so unlike Rey’s. She’d read a couple books on haircare when it became uncontrollable, the tangled mop akin to a rat’s nest most days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And very unlike Rey, Amelia refuses to cut it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be much easier to take care of, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon chou.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re in the bath together, Rey’s naked back leaning against the porcelain while Amelia sits cradled on her mother’s legs. It helps conserve water. And Amelia cries whenever she must bathe by herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s barely big enough for the two of them, just like everything in this tiny, rustic home is growing to be. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No!” Amelia cries, pouting and splashing the warm, sudsy water. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Coupé non!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They seriously need to work on her Frenglish. No one in France </span>
  <em>
    <span>or </span>
  </em>
  <span>America will be able to ever understand her at this rate. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey gulps nervously at the thought of returning to America. It’s been a thought over the years that only looms but never pounces. She rinses the shampoo from her daughter’s head, ignoring the sinking feeling that has nothing to do with the three feet of water they’re bathing in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you know when I was a little girl,” Rey chuckles, “Maman cut off </span>
  <em>
    <span>all</span>
  </em>
  <span> her hair?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia gasps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh no!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey chuckles. So dramatic. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was on purpose, I promise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Je détestais mes cheveux. Et quand je voulais jouer dehors, c'était plus facile avec ça court</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Rey idly realizes,</span>
  <em>
    <span> I’m probably the reason for Amelia's constant language switching. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia only huffs in response. She lets the ducky bob under the surface of the water over and over again. She must be thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>you don’t want a trim?” She cautiously asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...</span>
  <em>
    <span>oui.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>Yes</em>, you want a trim or <em>yes</em>, you’re sure you don’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia growls out in frustration. She throws the rubber ducky at the tiled floor and huddles within herself, Rey’s heart stopping in time and space because the action reminds her all too much of-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>coupé </span>
  </em>
  <span>my hair, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maman!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her little tantrums will always be cute, no matter how stressful they can be. Rey savors each and every one, because she knows Amelia will grow up and leave her, just like everyone has, and then Rey will miss anything. Even her screaming, hissy fits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon chou. </span>
  </em>
  <span>No haircuts today.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She draws back Amelia’s head and kisses her round, wet cheek. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because no amount of kisses will ever be enough. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. October 13th, 2013</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Bazine was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>bitch. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben can say this with confidence now that they’ve broken up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’d smashed the vase in the foyer. A few plates in the kitchen. Hell, Ben would have destroyed his phone if he’d been completely in the wrong headspace. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Deep breaths, just take deep breaths. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s aware that he’s part of the one percent. Ben </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>he should be nicer to wait staff and restaurant hostesses. And he knows he should be calling his mother more often. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben didn’t need his girlfriend to reiterate these things to him </span>
  <em>
    <span>every. Single. Fucking. Day. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Work is a good enough distraction. He throws everything into his meetings and agenda writings and whatever the fuck Snoke needs him to do, staying longer than legally allowed and receiving under-the-table payments that the government will hopefully never find out about. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <span>He doesn’t need Bazine. Ben doesn’t need </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. October 29th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The first of three devastating mistakes that evening was that Ben Solo forgot to text his mother and let her know he was coming home early. </p><p> </p><p>Not to his home, since he’s currently and technically homeless, but back to Leia Organa-Solo’s two story McMansion that sits nestled in the neighborhood's tiniest cul-de-sac. </p><p> </p><p>He hadn’t recognized the Honda Civic parked in the driveway. It was practically a piece of junk and the mystery of who it belonged to was easily solved by Ben peering into the backseat and seeing the clunky car seat. </p><p> </p><p>Rey was currently in his hou-</p><p> </p><p>His <em> mother’s </em>house. </p><p> </p><p>Ben had the feeling that this was a meeting he was <em> not </em>supposed to be privy to. </p><p> </p><p>The second mistake was that Ben was far too quiet. </p><p> </p><p>He’s a big man. A bull in a China shop more often than not. So, he was surprised no one said anything when the door closed or he toed his shoes off. His large limbs usually make a loud enough ruckus for his mother to come running to the foyer and asking him how his day was. </p><p> </p><p>All Ben could hear though, was sniffling. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t Leia. He <em> knows </em>what her cries sound like. They’d been non-stop for almost a year after Han died. </p><p> </p><p>He remained frozen in the foyer, briefcase in hand and jacket draped over his arm. </p><p> </p><p>Eavesdropping is probably one of the seven sins. Ben doesn’t know. He wasn’t raised with God or the Bible, but whatever he was doing, was most likely some type of transgression. </p><p> </p><p>A few words are understandable. But not enough to piece together a sentence or idea.</p><p> </p><p>It was then, he felt a gentle tug on the back of his dress shirt.</p><p> </p><p>The little figure behind him was on her tippy toes, arm stretching as high as she could go, and even then, Amelia was only clipping the bottom of the hem.</p><p> </p><p>Ben didn't know what he was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn't that damned Jason mask...<em>again.</em></p><p> </p><p><em>Kid must have an obsession,</em> he thought, noticing that there were specks of crayon around the forehead of the hockey mask. <em>She might wear the thing around the clock. </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben is not good at interacting with children.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the reason he was so uncomfortable at dinner. Children are too fragile. One wrong move and they could shatter like porcelain. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia, although, seemed to be made of something stronger than porcelain. Maybe stone. Or marble. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever the hell Rey’s made of, he supposed. </p><p> </p><p>Because she was whining, reaching up and grabbing at the air, unafraid of his intimidating size, and he had no idea what she wanted. Amelia kept muttering something in French and it took a solid fifteen seconds for Ben to realize that she wanted to be picked up. </p><p> </p><p>How do you even lift up a kid? </p><p> </p><p>When Ben used to carry Rey, he always grabbed her by the armpits. But Amelia is younger than Rey ever was when he knew her. </p><p> </p><p>She kept whining. And he wanted to continue eavesdropping. </p><p> </p><p>Defeated, Ben dropped the briefcase and jacket and lifted Amelia up, resting her on his hip. She kept chirping, and unsurprisingly, strictly <em> en Francais.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Grandes oreilles!” </em> she whispered through the holes of the mask, giggling a bit. “<em>Oreilles comme moi!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>And then Amelia proceeded to grab his left ear and <em> yank </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Ben whimpered but kept his pain hidden, not to be outed by a four-year-old tugging on a single piece of cartilage. </p><p> </p><p>He luckily caught a few more words, coming from Leia this time. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> ....I understand if I was in your position…” </em></p><p> </p><p>More mumbling. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...should have called me nonetheless…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia kept pulling. He had to tilt his head to accommodate her strength. </p><p> </p><p>What the hell is Rey feeding this kid? Raw spinach and steroids?</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ow,” </em>he finally said, under his breath, “that hurts.” Ben grabbed her hand and pried it off, but not without Amelia protesting. </p><p> </p><p>“No! I want <em> oreilles! </em> Jason <em> les coupera!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Wiggling soon became thrashing and Ben had no choice but to let her down, which was also protested, until Amelia was sobbing and clawing at his shirt to be picked up again. </p><p> </p><p>He was going to be caught, Ben knew it. </p><p> </p><p>This fear led directly to the last mistake he would make.</p><p> </p><p>Because Ben ignored Amelia’s cries. Even when he watched tears drip off the bottom rim of the mask. </p><p> </p><p>And when Amelia realized she was not, in fact, going to get whatever she demanded, her bare feet took down the hallway and into the emptiness of Leia’s house. </p><p> </p><p>Which brings us to the third, final, and possibly <em> fatal </em>mistake of the entire evening: </p><p> </p><p>Ben didn’t chase after her. </p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. January 7th, 2012</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>(Not so) Fun Fact: This is first chapter that I started crying while writing and had to shut my laptop to take a breather. It's not super sad or anything, hence the no TW, but I'll put my reason why in the end notes (since that does involve TW)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Dear Rey Johnson, </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We here at Coruscant Print are more than happy to offer you the full-time position of Assistant Set Designer. Our staff was impressed by your story and skills, and we’re looking forward to hearing from you at the soonest possible time.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sincerely </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Amilyn Holdo</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>CBO, Coruscant Print (FR)</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She reads it over once. Then again. Then one more time, because Rey can hardly believe it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia had pushed her to apply for the position, but the likelihood of a French fashion magazine hiring a college dropout was unlikely. Impossible, even. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the words are real: printed in black ink and </span>
  <em>
    <span>official. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing Rey does is run to the family portrait that still hangs in the living room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look!” She exclaims, holding the letter up to the glass frame, “I did it, Mom and Dad! I’m going to live in </span>
  <em>
    <span>Paris!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The photos smile back with uninterrupted peace, frozen in time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Rey knows her parents would be jumping for joy alongside her if they could. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She runs out the house, knocking on Han and Leia’s door without even thinking twice. The Falcon is in the driveway so </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone's </span>
  </em>
  <span>ought to be home.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Han is the one to open the door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey? What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her excitement cannot be contained, even if Rey’s not especially close with Mr. Solo. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She throws herself at Han, wrapping him in a hug Rey wished she could be giving her father. He doesn’t question it and pulls her up into the air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I did it! I’m moving to Paris!” Rey squeals over Han’s shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sets her down, his smile flashier than the Falcon’s fresh paint job. “That’s great to hear, kiddo. Is this the job Leia wanted you to get?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey nods. “Yep! And I never in a million worlds thought they would even </span>
  <em>
    <span>consider </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, but my high school portfolio impressed them enough, I guess, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>got it!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia suddenly appears from the kitchen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that Rey I hear?” She calls, drying her hands as she does so. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The shorter woman nearly crumples backwards from the force of Rey’s hug. She can feel Han lovingly pat her back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She got the job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia pushes at her shoulders. “Really? The assistant job?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes! I can move whenever I accept!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And they’re taking care of the visa work and all that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey keeps nodding until her neck feels like breaking. “Yep!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This is the day where everything will turn around. Rey can feel it in her bones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t wait to see what you do out there, sweetheart,” Leia marvels, “Han and I will be collecting </span>
  <em>
    <span>every </span>
  </em>
  <span>magazine they publish.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Despite being the worst year imaginable, Rey has a chance. A chance to start fresh; to become the person she’s always strived to be; to work a job she’s only ever dreamed of having. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The chance to leave everything behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And for the first time in ages, Rey cries happy tears rather than ones caused by grief.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TW// Cancer, general trauma and just personal stuff </p><p>I had a really tough time with this one because I have nearly lost both my mom and dad, and this was a scenario I had to unfortunately face. My dad was in a really bad accident when I was kid and now has irreversible brain damage, and my mom has now gone through both breast cancer and cervical cancer (I wrote Crossroads when she was getting treated). </p><p>My sister and I would look at old photos during my mom's treatment or my dad's therapy and cry over the fact that those people will never exist ever again. It's bittersweet, because I cherish the people they used to be, but its painful knowing that things will never return to how they were. And I still needed to move on with my life (although I didn't move to Paris lol but I did to Los Angeles).</p><p>I have also lost both my grandparents from my mom's side, an aunt, three great-aunts, and a great-uncle this year. </p><p>Sorry for the sad end note. But I'm praying 2021 will be a bit better. </p><p>Happy New Year!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. October 21st, 2002</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for your kind words last chapter. They seriously meant a lot to me. This fic is helping get through some past pain and I hope it can do the same for you. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need you to start driving Rey back and forth to school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben doesn’t bother looking up from his book. It’s a graphic and gritty one- Leia would hate it if she ever bothered to pick it up and riffle through the pages.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother blows air through her nose. “Rey Johnson. From next d-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know who Rey is, Jesus,” Ben cuts off, already irritated.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Her school starts twenty minutes before yours, so you'll need to get up a bit earlier.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where the fuck is this coming from? Leia needs to stop going next door and talking to Mrs. Johnson. She’s too good of an influence on his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not driving a fucking middle schooler around,” he sneers, a sense of finality in his voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Benjamin!” Leia shouts, slamming a hand onto the kitchen island. “Watch your mouth! I am <em>still</em> your mother!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Han hasn't been home for a month now and its showing. Leia's stressed out more than usual. And Ben knows this is probably not the time to start arguing unless he wants the keys to the car confiscated. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben gingerly places the book down, mumbling, “What do I get out of it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You get out of trouble. The amount of phone calls I’ve already gotten about you skipping school is obscene, and you’re not even through the first semester.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit. He knew those unexcused absences were going to catch up with him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Ben is still not playing taxi for the next door dork. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia doesn’t respond, but instead walks over to the dining table that Ben’s lounging at and sits across from him. She folds her hands elegantly and looks down at the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey is being bullied at school.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The plastic cover on his book suddenly bends and crinkles from Ben’s grip. His mother doesn’t miss the tension rippling through his forearms and neck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bet it would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatly </span>
  </em>
  <span>reduced if she was seen driving around with a scary looking high schooler” she continues, “in a loud, scary car like I don’t know....a mustang GT500?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s in a tight spot. His vanity and his reputation could be at stake if he's caught driving the little brat around. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the thought of her being bullied is...</span>
  <em>
    <span>doing</span>
  </em>
  <span> something to Ben. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Something he doesn’t understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He brings the book back up so it covers his face, so only the topmost of his black curls are visible to his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he grits out. “But you're paying for the gas.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. October 29th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben is thrown from his Amelia-induced trance when Leia and Rey suddenly turn the corner to the foyer. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t hear either of them get up. No chairs screeching across the floor. No shifting of shoes and slippers. So it’s not surprising that both Ben and the two women all gasp.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben!” his mother starts, “How long have you been standing there for?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes are misty, not to the extent of tears that still stream down Rey’s cheeks and chin. She attempts to wipe them away with her sleeve but Ben is far too distracted by the rest of her. </p><p> </p><p>Ben thought Rey was drop-dead gorgeous during dinner Saturday. But today, she’s done something he’s never seen her do before: Rey’s wearing make-up.</p><p> </p><p>Not only makeup, but a satin blouse that hugs each and every curve of her chest and waist; jeans that look like they were vacuumed onto her legs and although its mused, he’s never seen her pixie haircut styled like...<em> that.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ogling a crying woman is probably the last thing Ben Solo should be doing right now. </p><p> </p><p>Especially when she appears to have seen death himself. </p><p> </p><p>“I- uh,” Ben stammers, “I just got here. I heard you ladies talking and didn’t want to interrupt.”</p><p> </p><p>Not exactly the truth, but it isn’t quite a lie either. </p><p> </p><p>“What did you hear?” Rey stares him down, still in a stasis of full-blown shock. </p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. “Nothing really. You both talk pretty quietly.” </p><p> </p><p>Leia sighs and rubs a comforting hand against Rey’s back. Rey curses as she continues to collect herself. </p><p> </p><p>Ben’s curiosity is skyrocketing even more than his guilt right now because he honestly has <em> no </em>idea what topic would make them shed tears like this and then promptly freak out if he’d overheard a single coherent sentence. He also finds it odd that Leia didn’t inform him that Rey was coming to visit. </p><p> </p><p>And just like the dinner, something in the air feels...wrong.</p><p> </p><p>Rey starts to frantically look around when most of her mascara-runned tears have been wiped up. Her head whips back and forth, from the foyer to the living room, until she’s leaving the hallway alltogether and Ben can hear her footsteps in the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia?” She calls out with a slight accent. “Amelia, <em> viens-içi! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He gathers up his briefcase and jacket, paying no mind to his mother who’s staring at him with hardened eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>What?” </em>He whispers through his teeth. </p><p> </p><p>Rey’s voice carries through the house, calling over and over again for her daughter. Leia doesn’t let him exit the foyer when he attempts to walk past her. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re father would be very angry with you right now, Benjamin.”</p><p> </p><p><em> That </em> throws shit to the breeze. Ben sucks in a breath, brow cringing. He’s confused. Why bring up Han? And what would he be angry about? Ben <em>slightly </em>eavesdropping?</p><p> </p><p>Ben’s about to ask his mother to further expand on her delusional point but Rey suddenly comes running back to them, panic replacing the previous shock on her face. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t find her!”</p><p> </p><p>“This house isn’t very big, Rey,” Leia calms, “she’s got to be around her somewhere.”</p><p> </p><p>“S-she’s <em> not! </em>I just checked the entire downstairs and upstairs!”</p><p> </p><p>“Did you check the bedroom closets?” Ben asks, despite the weird feeling that’s lodging his throat. </p><p> </p><p>Rey looks down, taking a gulping breath. “N-no. I didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn't say another word as he scales the staircase, dropping his bag and jacket off in the guest room before first checking that room’s closet and wardrobe. He drops to his knees to look under the bed. He checks the guest shower and cabinets. </p><p> </p><p>No Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>Leia and Rey dig through the other rooms, calling for the little girl the entire time. When each area is checked and there's still no sign of Amelia, Rey’s panicked breaths turn back into sobs. </p><p> </p><p>Ben would remain up here and try to calm down the situation but he wants to check the downstairs again. Amelia must have been so upset with him that she’d run off and hidden herself away just to torture Ben. </p><p> </p><p>Just like Rey did as a child. </p><p> </p><p>The same hallowing feeling, the sense that the floor is going to drop from below him, comes back at full-fucking-force when Ben still can’t find Amelia anywhere on the first floor. </p><p> </p><p>He’s turned every cabinet inside out. Every closet door opened. </p><p> </p><p>Ben looks over to the glass patio door and notices it’s cracked open. </p><p> </p><p>Without alerting anyone else, he yanks it open and starts scanning the leaf-ridden lawn for any movement.</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t find Amelia, though. Instead, he spots the Jason mask lying innocently near the edges of the overgrown blackberry bushes, sitting amongst the foliage and dewy grass, waiting for its wearer to return.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. August 6th, 2015 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey names her daughter <em>Amelia Charlotte</em> <em>Johnson.</em></p><p> </p><p><em> Charlotte </em>in honor of her mother’s mother. </p><p> </p><p><em> Amelia </em> in honor of her father’s mother.  </p><p> </p><p>When the one and only doctor of Vézelay asks Rey what to write on the blank line that reads <em> Père, </em>Rey has already made her decision. </p><p> </p><p>A decision she should have made over a decade ago. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Le père... </em>” Rey whispers with a dark finality. She stares down at her newborn, cleaned up and nestled in the safety of a blanket rather than a bloody kitchen towel. </p><p> </p><p>Her future. </p><p> </p><p>Her <em> only </em>love now in this world. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em> “...est mort pour moi.” </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you're good a Scrabble: Am<i>elia</i></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0032"><h2>32. October 29th, 2019 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Typically, cold air is the reason one’s breath is taken away while basking in the seasonal chill. It’s a frigid force that steals the air right from your lungs, much like a quiet thief.</p><p> </p><p>But it’s not the cold air stealing away Ben’s breath currently. </p><p> </p><p>No, no, no; instead, it’s the anxiety and panic that’s slowly creeping up his throat like vomit. Ben holds the mask in hand while he frantically searches the yard. The mistakes, the guilt; it’s all bubbling acid. If he’d only shut the door a little louder, or messaged his mother…</p><p> </p><p>If Ben had only watched <em> where </em>Amelia had gone.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, he shouldn’t even have let her run off to begin with. </p><p> </p><p>But the past is the past, no matter how many times Ben repeats his mistakes over and over again. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Should have texted Leia… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben looks up to the Maple trees, searching frantically for a little figure who could be giggling atop one of the branches. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I was too quiet... </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He turns back to the house and searches under the deck. Maybe she’s joined the family of raccoons that have remained there, generation after generation. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Amelia… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>At the very edge of the lawn, where the over-brush is out of control and practically unmanageable, Ben hears a cry. </p><p> </p><p>A gut instinct sends him running back to the Maples and fruitless blackberry bushes, faster than he’s ever run before, he thinks. </p><p> </p><p>She did climb a tree, Ben realizes with horror. It’s just that Amelia just didn’t stay up there for very long. </p><p> </p><p>She’s fallen into the thorns, the above branch snapped and fallen. Amelia is completely trapped. Ben’s still too far away to see much more than her bare feet, tiny hands and crown of her head poking out above the leaves. </p><p> </p><p>But none of her limbs are moving. The whimpering cries have stopped.</p><p> </p><p>And Ben is beginning to freak out a little. </p><p> </p><p>Okay, more than a little. </p><p> </p><p>There’s a huge drop-off that stops being solid ground about twelve feet into the bushes. It leads down to the neighbor's yard and Ben’s always known ever since he was young, that if he’d ventured too far off of his house’s property, he would surely fall. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia looks to be about ten or eleven feet out from the grass.</p><p> </p><p>“Amelia!” He shouts. “Hey!”</p><p> </p><p>Nothing. </p><p> </p><p>He vaguely hears the sound of the patio door opening, then the quick steps of feet racing down the stairs as Ben tries to logically assess how to reach the little girl without shifting the branches too much, possibly dropping her through a gap. </p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t understand why he’s nearly as panicked as Rey is. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s not even his kid. </p><p> </p><p>But he tosses her Jason mask back safely onto the lawn anyways and begins to fight through the overgrowth as carefully as a six foot three man can.</p><p> </p><p>“Is she in the bushes, Ben!?” Leia shouts, coming down the deck and onto the grass. </p><p> </p><p>He can’t respond. Ben almost has a leg in reach. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ben! </em>” Leia shouts, again, much closer this time. </p><p> </p><p>He growls back over his shoulder, “<em>YES </em> ,” because these sticker-bushes really do fucking hurt and he’s <em> seriously </em>trying to concentrate, making sure every step he takes is precise. </p><p> </p><p>Rey is concerningly quiet behind him.</p><p> </p><p>Ben finally makes it to the little patch that Amelia’s ensnared in. Her little arms are trembling, cuts and scratches covering her skin. He’s able to get a good enough grip on both of her biceps, and while still trying to maintain his balance, Ben lifts Amelia out of the thorns and into the air. </p><p> </p><p>He lets out a sigh of relief. A bead of sweat drips from his forehead onto his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>But the relief is quickly replaced by confusion.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Because Ben is suddenly staring at the face of a little girl that looks far too much like himself and not enough like her mother.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0033"><h2>33. October 29th, 2019 (iv)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like witnessing a car crash happen in slow motion. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey watches everything unfold in front of her like she’s trapped behind the windshield, the collision sending fire and metal flying into the open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She is in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey watches Ben lift their daughter up to safety, his large hands completely encompassing nearly all of Amelia’s arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey watches a <em>stranger</em> lift </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>daughter up and out of the blackberry bushes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns back to face Leia and Rey, holding Amelia close to his chest while he struggles to make his way back to solid ground. Ben’s eyes are blank. His mouth is a tight, thin line. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She practically sees the gears turning in his head. Gears that were <em>supposed</em> to stay forever asleep and untouched. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben wasn’t supposed to be there on Saturday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t supposed to be here today, either. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey watches him set Amelia down on the grass, while Leia rushes to check on her cuts and scratches. Not a single muscle in Rey's body can move. She’s unsure if she’s even breathing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The world hazes, even with Amelia standing up and rushing over to her mother, crying and clawing at Rey’s hips. Her baby could have died. And Rey can’t even muster the ability to blink. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes are locked onto Ben’s, pupils wide, screaming.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is <em>desperately </em>trying to read what Rey is</span>
  <span> hiding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Amelia’s sobs finally pierce her mind and everything snaps back to reality. Rey’s gathering Amelia up and lifting her to rest on her shoulder while she watches blood drip down her back and legs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What…” Ben starts. Some of Amelia’s blood has stained his light blue shirt. “W-what is going on?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s never heard his voice crack like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that: </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Ben’s soul is being ripped directly from his throat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t respond, Rey can't, and instead wraps her baby closer, turning away from Ben and Leia and heads to the side yard that leads to the driveway. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Sweetheart!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She hears Leia attempt to cry out. But her feet aren’t stopping. Not until Amelia is away and safe and unaware of everything and anything that could destroy the life that Rey poured her heart into creating. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her tears have thankfully stopped. That was a rule Rey made years ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No crying when Amelia cried. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>needed to be strong in their family. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey quickly inspects her daughter’s wounds before placing her into the car seat, seeing that nothing is broken but plenty things are bleeding. She isn't mumbling her usual French nonsense which should be far more concerning than it is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luckily, Rey only came with a car key and apartment key, which are both still tucked into her back pocket. She jumps into the driver’s seat, face calm and cool despite the literal storm screaming within her and turns the engine on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But before she takes off back to their home, even though Amelia claims America will never be </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>home, as she misses France and the fresh cheese and the lavender-filled days, Rey waits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She waits for Ben to appear from the side yard or the front door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because there’s something inside her that hasn’t been there for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>long time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hope. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She calms Amelia while they wait, telling her “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maman will make all the boo-boos better, mon chou” </span>
  </em>
  <span>and “</span>
  <em>
    <span>they’ll be home soon</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
  <em>
    <span>. </span>
  </em>
  <span>A minute passes. Then two. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey feels a fresh and warm tear slide down her face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one’s coming. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shifts the car into reverse, backs out of the driveway her and Ben use to draw chalk rainbows and monsters on, and leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0034"><h2>34. June 2nd, 1999</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Whenever Han was home, which was quite literally once in a blue moon, the Organa-Solo's and the Johnson’s would go and meet at the local Mexican restaurant and share a meal together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was always nice to get out of the house and eat, especially when it wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>just </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey and her parents. She imagines this is what having a brother is like as Ben sits across from her, making a funny face and drawing a salsa mustache above his lip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey tries to hold in her giggles by slapping a hand over her mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It does not work.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her laughs are screechy, and Rey simply does not know how to use her indoor voice because she is six. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mommy turns </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately </span>
  </em>
  <span>in her chair to shush her. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Rey!</span>
  </em>
  <span> We are in a restaurant, keep it </span>
  <em>
    <span>down</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shamefully casts her eyes down to the table. Mommy can be very scary but Rey still loves her anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben watches it all unfold. Leia gives him a scornful look too, because there’s still salsa dripping from his lip. He gets in trouble with his mom all the time too. It’s something they can both complain about. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey stares at her kid’s menu, the cartoon bull haphazardly colored only with a single red crayon. Tears feel like they’re coming any minute now, so she grabs a blue crayon now and tries to color the horns, distracting herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dad and Han are talking about cars. Mommy and Leia, about school. Boring. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben shifts in his chair. He doesn’t have a coloring page (he says he’s a grown-up already, so he orders off the grown-up menu) so Ben just drums his fingers against the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She colors in the horn and tail. It’s a funky looking bull, but to Rey, it’s beautiful. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> Ben suddenly starts tapping louder, and she looks up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch this,” he leans in and whispers to Rey. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She grins and sets the crayon down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The adults always order these special fruit smoothies when they come to </span>
  <em>
    <span>San Juan’s. </span>
  </em>
  <span>They smell weird and Mommy doesn’t ever let her have a sip. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben is currently reaching for Leia’s special fruit smoothie. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He quickly grasps the neck of the glass and then takes four or five </span>
  <em>
    <span>big </span>
  </em>
  <span>gulps while Leia gasps in shock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Benjamin!” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey is laughing so loudly now, even with her mom yelling too, but it’s all drowned out by Ben’s smile. He looks happy that </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia lightly smacks the back of Ben’s head. “You are in </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>much trouble, young man.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He keeps laughing. But then the weird stuff in the smoothies must hit his stomach. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Rey’s never seen someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually </span>
  </em>
  <span>turn green before. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She immediately loses her appetite when Ben physically loses his; all over himself, the table and carpet. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0035"><h2>35. October 29th, 2019 (v)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Heads up, this chapter is a bit longer than the usual update. Sorry if it disturbs the reading flow, but it was <i>very</i> necessary.</p>
<p>TW// panic attack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>Amelia sniffles. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em> M-maman, </em>” she whispers, her voice watery and shaky. “I want J-Jason.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Fuck.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> They left the fucking Jason mask in Leia’s backyard.  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> Fuck fuck fuck fuck </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’m sorry, <em> my chou, </em> ” Rey says softly to the backseat. “<em>Maman </em>will get it back when she can. But not right now.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They’re close to the apartment complex. She keeps checking the rear view mirror for the car of a certain asshole that may be following them, just because Rey <em> really </em>must like torturing herself. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But each time, she only finds empty asphalt. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“<em>M-mais- </em>I w-want Jason.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rey parks her shitty car. They’ll get a better one, a safer one, once she starts a new job. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I already told you,” she repeats light-headed, turning to face Amelia, “you need to wait, just like <em> Maman </em>has to.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s apparently the wrong thing to say because Amelia starts <em> screaming.  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her face pinks, her tiny lungs grasping for air as she screams and cries her despair over a fucking <em> Jason Voorhees mask </em>rather than the fact that she looks like one of his victims. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> That blood is going to be a bitch to get out of the car seat’s fabric, </em>Rey mindlessly thinks. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Her body goes into autopilot as she grabs Amelia’s wriggling, but weak body from the car seat and carries her up to their apartment. Rey’s hand shakes when she tries to unlock the door. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Amelia punches her way out of her mother’s grip and collapses on the kitchen floor, mid-tantrum. The screams sound like they’re echoing down a tunnel. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Did I lock the car door? </em> Rey randomly thinks because her brain is processing nothing and everything at the same time. <em> Did I even lock the front door?  </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bu then Rey’s knees are dropping to the floor too, joining her screaming toddler who’d literally escaped death only a handful of minutes ago. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Amelia is such a strong girl. Stronger than her mother will ever be.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The anxiety that’s been bubbling ever since she saw Ben on Saturday for the first time in years, after that cursed and fateful night, finally erupts and bursts.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rey hasn’t had a panic attack since she was pregnant. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She gasps for breaths that are not coming, wishing for air to fill her lungs and blood, while the world around her blurs. Rey can hear Amelia’s cries. But they are the cries of an infant; the one’s Rey could never control and sent her to near madness. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The sounds of rushing water, of a breeze brushing gently through Maple trees echo in her head, too. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And so does the sound of a knock. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He watches her leave. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben watches Rey leave with every question unanswered. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>His arms ache, and Ben’s covered in a thin sheen of sweat but it’s nothing compared to the pain of his ignorance. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em> How-?  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Benjamin...” Leia says while she waves a hand in front of his glossed eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn’t blink. Ben can hear Rey's Civic start up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Please talk to me, Be-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where is Amelia’s father?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He suddenly interrupts, eyes darting down to Leia. His voice is demanding. It’s a tone he usually reserves for conferences and firing subordinates. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Leia is no easily frightened woman, though. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She huffs, disappointed, like she’d been earlier. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why don’t you go and ask Amelia’s<em> mother</em> instead of sitting here with your mouth open like a damn fish.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He snaps his mouth closed at the insult. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But his mother is right. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben runs back through the house and grabs his car keys; no wallet or phone included.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He probably breaks at least ten vehicular laws when he drives frantically towards Rey’s apartment. He’s fortunate its only a ten or eleven mile stretch.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He parks next to her car. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> Jesus </em> , it really <em> is </em> a piece of shit. In worse condition than the Falcon ever was. Rey really shouldn't be riding in it, nevertheless with a <em>child.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben only remembers her apartment number because the door and its number have been burned into the back of his mind since Saturday night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He knocks a few times. They’re home, he saw the empty car. He knocks again. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>No answer. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>She was obviously trying to get away from him, so maybe Rey’s just ignoring him. It’s not undeserved. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But then Ben presses an ear to the door and can hear Amelia’s little hysterical cries. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And a different type of concern starts to rise. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He takes a chance with the door knob only to find it surprisingly unlocked. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Rey?” he calls out, “Are you okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>No answer. Amelia is still crying.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben walks on eggshells through the hallway and into the kitchen.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>"Fucking <em>hell- "</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rey's head is leaning against one of cabinets, her chest rising and falling in an unusual stuttering pattern. Her eyes are half-lidded and distant. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He doesn't remember Rey ever having a history of epilepsy or anything of the likeness, but she's obviously mentally clocked-out. She doesn't even acknowledge his presence, let alone <em>speak.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Amelia sits on the floor next to her, crying, bleeding and sucking desperately on her thumb.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben should call Leia, or 911-</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em> But he left his fucking phone at the house. </em> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's all up to him then, Ben realizes.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Carefully as possible, he leans down and hooks one arm under Rey's knees, the other around her back. Amelia rises when he does, watching this large, strange man carry her mother. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>"It'll be okay," Ben tries reassuring the sniffling toddler, "your mom is going to be okay."</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He's not sure if that's really the truth. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But what even is anymore?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's a couch in the living room and nothing more besides boxes. Ben <em>finally </em>hears Rey take a gasping breath, her eyes closing as the inhales and exhales even out. He doesn't really want to just dump her on the couch, but Ben realizes he must when he looks behind to see Amelia following like a baby duck, thumb still in her mouth and blood drying. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rey falls asleep instantly. Or she falls unconscious. Either option scares him. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>But with her head safely pressed into the cushions of a couch rather than a wooden cupboard, Ben turns right around and picks up Amelia. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He walks back to the kitchen, attempting to come to his senses and realize that this little girl does <em>not</em> have his nose, ears or eyes. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There's no meaning in trying to make out the impossible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Even as he sets the her onto the counter and begins to clean up the cuts on her arms, Ben blames a freak coincidence. Its only chance that Amelia's hair is his exact shade of black or has his texture of curls; a hysterical fact he’d desperately tried to ignore the other night. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Ben has a feeling that he won't be able to ignore anything when Rey wakes up.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0036"><h2>36. October 30th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>buckle up, y'all</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey wakes up to a darkened night.</p><p> </p><p>Her head pounds. She’s confused. And then she panics when she can’t see Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>Her phone, which was left on the kitchen counter, shows the time <em> 1:05 AM.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Why did she fall asleep? Did Rey already put Amelia to bed?</p><p> </p><p>There’s a small pile of blood-soaked paper towels near the sink. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia. The thorns. <em> Ben.   </em></p><p> </p><p>Did he come back? Rey can’t remember. She must have had a panic attack: a <em> severe </em>one. </p><p> </p><p>She runs, quietly of course, down the hallway to Amelia’s bedroom. When Rey cracks open the door, she’s relieved to see Amelia fast asleep in her bed, cradling one of her <em>many</em> stuffed animals. Ben must have found the first aid kit, because she’s covered head to toe in bandages. </p><p> </p><p>She cracks the door open a little more. </p><p> </p><p>Ben did not leave yet.</p><p> </p><p>He’s curled in on himself on the floor, one of Amelia’s stuffed giraffe’s cushioning his head. Fast asleep, until the hallway light makes him blink and shift towards Rey. </p><p> </p><p>Not only did Ben come back. </p><p> </p><p>He stayed. </p><p> </p><p>Ben <em> stayed </em> with Amelia. Probably made sure she got to sleep and stopped crying. Not even <em> Rey </em>can usually do it. She’s impossible to calm when injured or hungry. </p><p> </p><p>“...<em> Rey? </em>” He whispers. He’s obviously trying not to wake up the toddler two feet across from him.</p><p> </p><p>She shushes him anyways and motions for Ben to get up and off the floor. A few bones crack when he does; a painful reminder that they’re both getting old. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll make us some coffee,” Rey offers. He nods back, stretching his arms. Rey can’t help but spot the sight of skin when his shirt rides up a little.</p><p> </p><p>And when Ben slowly and gently closes the door, with the care that Rey’s been <em> aching </em> to see from him for years, she realizes something but <em> prays </em>that he will prove her wrong.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Ben will never see what’s right in front of him.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0037"><h2>37. April 17th, 2001</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey waits patiently in Ben’s backyard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s something she’s always been really good at.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Waiting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He comes home from football practice at approximately 5:15 PM every day. There’s no way he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>see her waiting on the deck. Ben can’t ignore her when they’re alone. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Apparently he can when he’s with his...</span>
  <em>
    <span>friends, </span>
  </em>
  <span>though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her Spongebob watch ticks and her timing was correct. Rey watches Ben come in through the garage door, dump his football gear bag onto the floor and then promptly freeze when he catches Rey sitting criss-cross applesauce on his deck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben hangs his head when he slowly walks over to the sliding door and cranes it open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Rey?” He sounds tired. Done with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>won’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>cry in front of him again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why did you push me yesterday?” The confrontation at the grocery store still confuses her, but she hopes Ben has a good reason. Good enough that she can forgive him and everything will go back to smiles and peanut butter celery sticks and staring at the sun together. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be seen talking to you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her hopes crash like a dysfunctioning rocket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“W-what?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben crosses his arms. “I can’t talk to you anymore, Rey. I’m going to be a high schooler soon. I’m too cool to be seen speaking to someone like </span>
  <em>
    <span>you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey doesn’t understand- what is happening? Why is saying such horrible things? This is Ben. Ben, who makes food for her, and gives her his old clothes. Ben, who she secretly hoped was going to marry her when they both grew up, because Rey wants to kiss him on his rosy cheek all the time and only </span>
  <em>
    <span>married </span>
  </em>
  <span>people can do that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“B-Ben, what are you-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It was fun playing with you. But my </span>
  <em>
    <span>actual </span>
  </em>
  <span>friends can’t find out about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She starts sniffling. “But I-I thought </span>
  <span>I </span>
  <span><em>was</em> your actual friend.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He notices her tears, of course, but keeps his head down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If anyone ever asks, you don’t know who I am.” Ben grabs for the glass door and gives her one final, aching look. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bye, Rey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sound of the door slamming is almost as loud as Rey’s sobbing wail. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0038"><h2>38. October 30th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>next stop, angst station</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The smell of coffee fills the tiny kitchen as Rey takes deep breaths, assuring Ben that she does not have any brain conditions. A nervous breakdown is what she blames, and when he asks what triggered such, Rey shifts in her chair, nervous. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn't ever plan on coming back to the states.” Rey tells him, coffee cups warming their hands. “I loved the French countryside. It was the perfect place to raise a child. Amelia still whines about how stinky it is here.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben and Rey sit on opposite sides of the table. There’s a strange, unfelt aura to the room that he can’t name. </p><p> </p><p>She takes a short sip, looking back down to the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Being back here causes this panic for me, I guess. But due to circumstances, and a problem involving my will, I had to come back.” </p><p> </p><p>His thoughts immediately go to the worst scenario possible. “Are you…?"</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Rey shakes her head, “I’m not sick. It’s more of a safety concern than anything."</p><p> </p><p>Ben lets out a sigh of relief. Thank god. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Okay, that’s good to hear.”</p><p> </p><p>Another sip.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t have any other living relatives who could take care of Amelia if I got into some freak accident or God knows what. Leia is the closest person possible.” </p><p> </p><p>It makes a bit more sense now; why she needed to speak privately to his mother. She’d always been like an Aunt to Rey.</p><p> </p><p>“Amelia’s father is… out of the picture.” </p><p> </p><p>His heart skips a beat when Rey mention’s Amelia’s mysterious father.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve known him for a <em> very </em>long time. He’s consumed by his work. And his ego.” Rey explains. “He’s practically a stranger to me now.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t understand why disappointment suddenly runs through his blood; slick and cold. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s met Amelia twice now. And he seems to care for her, but I don’t think he wants anything to do with raising her.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowns. It’s not like it was ever possible that <em> he </em>could be Amelia’s father. </p><p> </p><p>Because Rey would be telling him that, right now.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry to hear that. He sounds like a jerk.”</p><p> </p><p>Her face falls, like Ben has said the absolute <em> wrong </em>thing. Her eyes trace his hands, gripping tightly to the mug. The light within them is dying a slow, painful death.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh,” Rey sighs. “He is.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben <em> really </em>doesn’t want to stay on the topic of this deadbeat father, seeing as Han Solo was nearly the same thing and this discussion is apparently hitting a sad nerve for Rey. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s amazing that you’ve been raising Amelia all by yourself,” he tells her, trying to erase the frown framing her face. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you.” Rey nods, but still doesn’t smile. “And thank you for helping me with my panic attack. And saving Amelia from the bushes. And patching her up, too. ”</p><p> </p><p>Ben shrugs. “I just did the same thing for her that I did for you, what is it now, twenty years ago?”</p><p> </p><p>“...Twenty-three,” Rey corrects with the edge of the mug at her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. Wow, you have an amazing memory.”</p><p> </p><p>She sets the coffee back down and mumbles to the table, “<em> you sure don’t…” </em></p><p> </p><p>And Ben <em> definitely </em>catches what Rey says.</p><p> </p><p>“What was that?” he asks innocently. </p><p> </p><p>“Nothing. Do you want some more coffee?” She suddenly stands up, grabbing her mug. Besides the faux cheeriness of her question, anger boils under her expression. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey, it isn’t nothing. I’ve never seen you like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like what? You haven’t cared to know me for a <em>long</em> time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I know it’s been a while-”</p><p> </p><p>“A <em> while?” </em> Rey chokes out, a cord tightened and then snapped. “You stopped speaking to me when I was nine and then by the time I was thirteen, you couldn’t even <em> look </em>at me! Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>Flashes of their childhood together appear, of Ben demanding she never talk to him again and then after the park incident, him casually telling her to <em> fuck off </em>, “N-no, I’m-”</p><p> </p><p>“I was in love with you, Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes go wide.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Leia was fucking right. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Still doesn’t mean Ben was prepared. </p><p> </p><p>“For years. I loved you and it <em>hurt</em> the entire time<em>. </em>It hurt when I was a child <em> . </em> And it was almost <em>deadly </em>when I was a teenager.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben can tell she’s trying to hold back tears but a few fall anyways. Rey wipes them quickly, as to not show weakness.</p><p> </p><p>“But all you ever did was cast me aside. I was your dirty little secret, wasn’t I? Just the loser who you sometimes threw a football around or had a snack with. The disgusting puny nerd who never fit into <em> your </em>life.”</p><p> </p><p>“We were just kids, Rey,” he tries reasoning. </p><p> </p><p>“Were you a kid when you didn’t recognize me in Paris?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey suddenly slaps a hand over her mouth. She obviously did not intend on letting <em> that </em> fact slip.</p><p> </p><p><em> “What?” </em>Ben growls, confused. Pieces of an impossible puzzle are coming together.</p><p> </p><p>“N-nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rey, you’re hiding something from me. What are you talking about? Paris? I would have known it was y-”</p><p> </p><p>“But you didn’t Ben,” she snaps. “Even when you shook my hand at that bistro.”</p><p> </p><p>Bistro? What is she talking about-?</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wait. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>The memories are hazy, like looking through frosted glass, but he’s pushing, trying to remember.</p><p> </p><p>Because that wasn’t- there’s <em> no way </em>, Rey was actually-</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Sylvie </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>She can’t look him in the eye but she nods.</p><p> </p><p>His confusion transforms into something much more grotesque:</p><p> </p><p><em> Betrayal </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“You...you <em> lied </em>to me?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey lets out a watery and sharp laugh. “I <em> knew </em> you wouldn’t have cared if it was me. You’ve made that a point for a while now. So yes, I <em>did</em> lie, Ben. And look where it’s gotten me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-you’re-”</p><p> </p><p>“Nobody,” she says, dumping her coffee into the sink and obsessively washing the porcelain. “That’s what I was then, and that’s what I’m going to be to you now.”</p><p> </p><p>He <em> hates </em>how she’s making every decision for him, then in Paris and now in her apartment. Ben quickly rises from his chair and joins her next to the sink. </p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t fair. I would have cared <em>more</em> if it was you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” She slams the mug and sponge down, looking up at him. “You want to say that you would have still fucked me if I wasn’t anything else besides a random, willing French woman?</p><p> </p><p>Ben swallows. “If I’d known it was you, I wouldn’t have...<em> disrespected </em> you like that.” </p><p> </p><p><em> “Disrespected? </em>Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” </p><p> </p><p>“Rey wa-”</p><p> </p><p>She then promptly snatches one of the hand towels and his car keys from the table, walking out of the kitchen. It takes Ben an entire minute to realize she is heading to the front door. </p><p> </p><p>When he rounds the corner as well, Rey is holding the keys out with a wet hand, the other keeping the door open. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you for saving Amelia’s and my ass today, but I think you should get going, Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>When he stands there and does not take the keys, Rey shrugs and then tosses them out into the hallway.</p><p> </p><p>“Drive home safely. Or don’t. It’s not like we give a shit about each other anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben still doesn’t move a muscle though. Even when he’s facing the fury of a woman who quite literally just spilled her heart out to him; guts and blood, included.</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t fair, Rey. There’s something else you’re angry about, and I deserve-”</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t deserve to know <em> anything </em> in the first place! You’ve only proved that I was right! You’re blind and stupid and I <em>can’t</em> have you ruining her life, too!”</p><p> </p><p>He tries reaching for the door to close it, but Rey fights him on <em> that </em>too, until they’re both shoving at the thing like a couple of bratty kids. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Who </em>is Amelia’s Father, Rey?” Ben grits out. </p><p> </p><p>She must have been bench pressing limestone in France because Rey is currently shoving Ben out of the door <em> while </em> closing it and <em> succeeding. </em> </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Rey!” </em></p><p> </p><p>She gets one final push, and then Ben’s stumbling and falling out into the concrete hallway. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia’s <em> Father </em> ,” Rey starts, red-faced and breathing hard, “is a selfish, egotistical, work-addicted <em> asshole </em> that couldn’t even recognize the face of the girl who’s loved him for almost <em> twenty years </em>when they fucked!”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>She slams the door before Ben can choke out a single word.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0039"><h2>39. -- /--/ ----</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Um hi again. So the last chapter caused a lil bit of drama lol. I hope you all know I stand by each and every decision I make. I have a plan, I promise. It's just getting there that sucks. </p><p>Chaney</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Summer. </p><p> </p><p>They’re playing in the grass, the air is sweet. There’s a hole in the fence. A little girl in the blackberry bushes. </p><p> </p><p>Autumn. </p><p> </p><p>He drives his loud and obnoxious car up to the middle school. His heart leaps when he sees her, backpack bouncing and gas fumes filling his nose. </p><p> </p><p>Winter. </p><p> </p><p>Cold, icy air makes him shiver. Football practice carries on anyways. He thinks of the time they used to play catch. </p><p> </p><p>Spring. </p><p> </p><p>His father dies. Ben regrets the time they couldn’t spend together. But he’s angry. Angry that Han never cared. Even when he claimed he did. </p><p> </p><p>There’s feelings; too many of them. They crash and collide together, forming a milky way. Her eyes glow like the stars. Her smile is like a racing comet, bright and fiery. </p><p> </p><p>Mistakes.</p><p> </p><p>So, <em> so </em>many mistakes. </p><p> </p><p>The further he traces back, the more Ben wants the earth to sink and swallow him up forever, where no one can see him or fuck him or hide his daughter away from him. </p><p> </p><p>He treated her like nothing. Almost her entire life. </p><p> </p><p>She’s right: Rey <em> was </em>his dirty little secret. </p><p> </p><p>Just as Amelia was hers. </p><p> </p><p>But who’s to say one secret kept is far worse than another?</p><p> </p><p>No one. </p><p> </p><p>Not Ben. Not Rey. Not even Leia’s mind of wisdom. </p><p> </p><p>The dream shifts. He’s trapped in a white box, no taller than his own head. She stands in front of him. Amelia, right at her side. Her arm extends out to him. Ben's as well. But they are not reaching for each other.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>That would be too simple.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>They both have a pistol in each of their hands. They’re both loaded.</p><p> </p><p>And pointed at each other. </p><p> </p><p>Ben can’t shoot Rey though. Never. He may not be the best man in the world, God knows that, but he won’t just...<em> shoot </em>her point blank. </p><p> </p><p>But when Ben looks closer, he sees three bullet holes already sunk through her skin. They’re scarred. Ghastly. Ugly, compared to the smooth expanse of her naked shoulder. Ben sucks in a desperate breath when the awful realization dawns on him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s already shot her. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t lower her pistol. Even as Ben lowers his and drops to his knees. To beg for forgiveness.</p><p> </p><p><em>Forgive</em> <em>me</em>, he begs. <em>I was only a child. </em></p><p> </p><p>The pistol just follows him on the way down.</p><p> </p><p><em> Forgive me, </em> he begs again, <em> I was a stupid teenager.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey cocks the gun. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Forgive me for already shooting you, Rey. Please. Please don’t shoot me too.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s no use. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia holds onto her mother’s waist, staring down at him with the same emotionless expression as her mother as the shots ring out, piercing and painful. </p><p> </p><p><em> This was all inevitable, </em>Ben thinks, collapsing onto the ground. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I deserve to be shot.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Because he knows deep down that even <em> if </em>he’d known Sylvie was Rey or Rey was Sylvie, he still wouldn’t have reached out. She still would have just been a quick, drunk fuck. The only difference? They happened to live next to each other a lifetime ago. </p><p> </p><p>Blood pools, his cheek soaked. When Ben darts a tongue out to taste it, it’s sweet and deathly. </p><p> </p><p>And if Rey had called to tell Ben that, due to their stupidity, she’d somehow become pregnant, he knows what he would have done. </p><p> </p><p><em> I-I don’t want- </em> </p><p> </p><p>He takes a breath but it’s difficult. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I d-don’t want to be a father. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey cocks the gun yet again. She’s smiling now. Like she understands. Like she <em> predicted </em>he was going to murmur those words. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I know, Ben.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She aims for his forehead this time. </p><p> </p><p><em> I’m s-scared, </em>Ben warbles out. </p><p> </p><p>Scared of her pistol? Or scared of becoming like Han Solo? A distant, good-for-nothing, excuse of a father?</p><p> </p><p><em> This will hurt, </em> she tells him. <em> But it’ll never measure the pain you gave me.  </em></p><p> </p><p>The pistol echoes.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0040"><h2>40. October 30th, 2019 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The last few chapters have created some strong emotions about Ben and Rey so I have included this nice whale to help calm everyone. I call him Blivian.<br/>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Enjoy~</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben wakes up, jolted roughly in the seat of his car. </p><p> </p><p>He’s not actually bleeding, even if it <em> really </em>felt like he was. The only blood on him is Amelia’s; dried and crusting. </p><p> </p><p>Ben banged on her door until Rey’s ninety-year-old neighbor came out furious and screaming. He only gave up when the neighbor then proceeded to throw a shoe at Ben's head. </p><p> </p><p>Fuck. </p><p> </p><p>Why did he keep banging on the door? He might have woken up Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>His daughter. </p><p> </p><p>Ben takes in a gulping breath as the early morning light fills the sky. </p><p> </p><p>He has a daughter. </p><p> </p><p>Debating whether it’s worth trudging back up the stairs and risking another shoe to his head, or worse, Rey calling some kind of authorities, Ben decides he should probably go home and process...<em> everything.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Fuck. <em> Not </em>his home. Still Leia’s house.</p><p> </p><p>He really needs to figure out what the hell is going on with his real estate agent. </p><p> </p><p>The drive back to foggy, in a literal and metaphorical sense. The clouds drape over his car and his eyelids, thoughts drowsy, unfiltered, but the sun clears a path of golden light.</p><p> </p><p>Ben quickly glances down to the dash. He’s supposed to be at work in half an hour. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I needed a day off anyways.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leia is already awake by the time he walks through the front door and into the living room. She’s reading a book and glances up, obviously unsure of what exactly happened. </p><p> </p><p>“You look like shit.”</p><p> </p><p>She goes back to her book, seemingly bored. Or perhaps disappointed?</p><p> </p><p>“Good to know you’re still the ever-loving parent, Mom,” Ben grumbles, turning around and intent on taking a long, hot shower. Maybe if he turns the heat up enough, the water will scald and burn his skin off. </p><p> </p><p>“I suppose she told you then,” Leia’s voice suddenly calls from behind him. "And I'm assuming you slept in the car and <em>not </em>in the apartment."</p><p> </p><p>Ben freezes mid-step. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Does Leia…? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Do you-” he spins around, “What did Rey tell you<em> ? </em>” </p><p> </p><p>His mother sets the book down and reaches for her tea, taking a long, languid sip. </p><p> </p><p>“Depends on what you’re talking about. Did she tell me about her job in France? Yes. Did she tell me the reason why she’s back living in the States? Also, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>Another sip.</p><p> </p><p>“So maybe this isn’t really a question about Rey and I. What did she tell <em> you? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Ben gulps. He can’t believe the words that are about to come out of his mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“I-I have a kid.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia takes a sharp and swift breath. It’s visceral. He knows the exact same feeling now. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” his mother calmingly says, “you do.”</p><p> </p><p>He can’t keep standing here like some gawking chicken so Ben crosses the carpeted room and sits in the lazyboy Han practically <em>lived</em> in when he was home. There’s memories, pleasant ones, of Ben sitting on the arm while his father shelled peanuts for him since the motion was too difficult for his little fingers.</p><p> </p><p>The thought makes Ben physically fold over on himself. </p><p> </p><p>He won’t cry. He doesn’t think he even can. But the events of everything- the sense of betrayal, his horrible realizations, <em> Rey- </em> it’s all crashing. It’s crashing and burning and smoking. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ve hurt her so much, Mom,” he mumbles into his forearms.</p><p> </p><p>Leia sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you have.”</p><p> </p><p>The words <em> sting, </em>but are nothing but the truth. </p><p> </p><p>“But she’s hurt you now as well.”</p><p> </p><p>The pain <em> almost </em>equates, in some twisted sense, but Ben’s feels deserved. Hers doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>He still doesn’t know if she did it to be malicious or evil, but Rey has always known Ben better than he knew himself. <em> She </em>could look through that tough-guy-jock façade he desperately clung on to as a young adult. </p><p> </p><p>But that poisonous façade slowly consumed him, to a point where he wasn’t sure where Ben Solo started and the guise stopped. </p><p> </p><p>Rey must have realized this. </p><p> </p><p>The Ben she’d fallen in love with was not the same person anymore. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey did what she needed to do,” he murmurs, “and I don’t blame her.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia scoffs. </p><p> </p><p>“Would have been nice if  Rey had at least called <em> me </em>and let me know I had a grandbaby living across the world.” Her voice then quiets. “But I don’t blame her either.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben sits up, blankly staring out ahead of him. </p><p> </p><p>“I can’t be a father.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s almost like Leia tries to hold back a laugh. “You’re about four years too late to say <em> that </em>, Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>But he shakes his head. “No. I can still walk away. Rey and Amelia are happy by themselves, and that's what she intended. I’m not going to show up and tear everything apart like I always do. Like Han did.”</p><p> </p><p>He would rather die than become the father Han was to him. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia will always deserve better. </p><p> </p><p>Leia rises and stands before Ben, taking his chin into her sun-spotted hand. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should learn from your father. Don’t let his actions haunt you.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>“Let them <em> shape </em> you, Benjamin.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Before anyone has a fit, Leia has her reasons for forgiving Rey.<br/>We will see them soon.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0041"><h2>41. November 2nd, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>what the hell do you call angst AND fluff</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Everything is just knives and splinters for a few days.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia still cries about that damn mask. But she has a Jigsaw one that was buried in one of the dozens of boxes. Rey thanks the stars that she’d purchased it as a surprise present last Halloween from the weird American store in Bordeaux.</p><p> </p><p>Still scares the living shit out of Rey though. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia came running into her bedroom yesterday when she was unpacking their winter clothes, completely off guard, and Rey swore, jumped and almost fell flat on her ass at her daughter’s sudden squealing. </p><p> </p><p>At least she was <em> used </em>to the hockey mask.</p><p> </p><p>Rey has to beg Amelia to take it off before bed. Because if Amelia shows up at her bedside in the middle of the night asking for a loaf of bread in that...<em> thing </em> again, Rey is going to have a heart attack. </p><p> </p><p>Also, the midnight loaf-feastings have <em> got </em>to stop. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia isn’t a pudgy child in the least, but Ben used to gain weight quickly when he was young, unintentionally or not- and she still doesn’t have a doctor here in the States. </p><p> </p><p>Ben. </p><p> </p><p>He hasn’t contacted her since that night. And it’s a good thing. </p><p> </p><p>(Rey had also called Leia that same morning and requested a few days privacy, which she deemed completely understandable.)</p><p> </p><p>The fact that Ben knows the full story now scares her. Not in the way that latex Jigsaw mask does. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a fear of the unbelievable. The unattainable. A fear that the future Rey has built and predicted will somehow become horrible; gruesomely mangled.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia doesn’t know any better. She’s only ever asked about having a father <em> once.  </em></p><p> </p><p>There was just one other family in Vézelay that lived nearby. They, of course, had a mother <em> and </em> father, along with five children of their own. Amelia liked to play with the youngest who was still years and years older than herself, but apparently was old enough to wonder where <em> Amelia’s Papa </em>was. </p><p> </p><p>Rey just explained that her <em> Papa </em> was a busy man, which was true. That he loved her, even if <em> that </em> was actually a lie, and that he was stuck in America. </p><p> </p><p>The stress of unpacking everything at least calms her resolute fears. Amelia is welcomed to the world of American TV: Sesame Street, Wonderpets and a bunch of other shows she doesn’t recognize. There’s no yard to let her run around in, so Rey allows her to do track circles through their tiny complex.</p><p> </p><p>Just like the car, the apartment is just temporary. </p><p> </p><p>A knock at the door comes in the late afternoon. She’s had to order quite a few things for the beds, living room and floor, so Rey doesn’t bother answering it and resumes washing dishes. </p><p> </p><p>But the knocks are consistent. </p><p> </p><p>American delivery people sure are persistent.</p><p> </p><p>Rey growls and dries her hands quickly, running lightly up to the door and peering through the peephole. </p><p> </p><p>Oh. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not the Amazon guy.</p><p> </p><p>He’s not the Amazon guy but sets down a cardboard box anyways. Rey remains absolutely still, not even breathing. He must realize that she is <em> not </em>going to answer the door.</p><p> </p><p>So with one final, long glance to the little glass window where she’s hidden behind, Rey watches Ben shove his hands into his coat pockets and take off down the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>She always did hate watching him leave. </p><p> </p><p>Even though Rey should just be hating him, period. </p><p> </p><p>When she assumes he’s done and drives off, Rey yanks on the doorknob and grabs the package at an insane speed. Too impatient to even bring it inside, she immediately tears open the folded top to reveal the contents of Ben’s delivery. </p><p> </p><p>She first sees the Jason mask and could cry from relief. Amelia is going to be <em> so </em>happy. </p><p> </p><p>Rey digs a little deeper, past what she assumes are <em>clothes?</em>  She’s not sure. She finds three Tupperware containers at the bottom. When she pops the lids off, Ben’s sandwiches, the god-awful tuna fish and pickle ones, are stacked neatly inside. </p><p> </p><p>Did he seriously think she <em> liked </em>these as a kid? Rey once threw up after attempting to eat two in a row. </p><p> </p><p>Rey allows the door to close and calls for Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>JASON!” </em>her shrill, little voice shouts when Rey dangles the thing in the air. </p><p> </p><p>The Jigsaw mask is off in an instant (thank <em> God) </em> and Amelia lets out a satisfying hum, almost like a purr, when the hockey mask is once again wrapped safely around her head. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ça va</em>?” Rey asks, amusement lacing her voice. </p><p> </p><p>She mumbles back something inaudible, Rey literally has no idea what, but then Amelia’s reaching for the box.</p><p> </p><p>“What is it?” she asks, muffled. </p><p> </p><p>Rey sets the box down gently and her daughter begins to yank the black clothes out piece by piece. Amelia’s curious enough that she lifts the mask up to her forehead so she can better see. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>C’est," s</em>he pulls out a t-shirt and holds it out in front of her, <em> " </em>a shit.”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” Rey goes to quickly correct. “This is a <em> shirt, </em> Amelia. Say it with me- <em> shirt.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Bert.”</p><p> </p><p>“N-No, not like Bert from the puppet show- in English, we say <em> shirt. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” she repeats, proud of herself. </p><p> </p><p>Rey groans, giving up and still confused about the clothes. She takes a few more out to the realization that these are <em> Ben’s </em>t-shirts: they all have gory and metal imagery decorating the fronts, worn and soft from the years of wear. </p><p> </p><p>Why would he give Rey a bunch of his old teen shirts?</p><p> </p><p>But the answer suddenly screams out, in the form of four-year-old Amelia’s voice, who finds a t-shirt with none other than <em> Freddy Krueger </em> on the front. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Freddy! C’est Freddy, Maman!” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to put it on?” Rey asks. </p><p> </p><p>She nods, breathing heavily through her mouth as Rey places the wide collar over her mountain of curls, then helps each tiny arm through. </p><p> </p><p>The sight makes her want to weep. </p><p> </p><p>But not in front of Amelia of course, who is laughing and jumping up and down. Wondering if her daughter differs in another way from her as well, Rey opens the Tupperware and offers a sandwich. </p><p> </p><p>“Bread?” </p><p> </p><p>Rey nods. “Yes, it’s a sandwich. <em> Du pain.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Without even a <em> second </em>of resistance, Amelia snatches the thing up and shoves the white bread into her mouth. Rey cringes as she watches her chew, but then her entire face lights up. </p><p> </p><p>“MMMmm! <em>Bon! </em>Good!”</p><p> </p><p>Of course Amelia likes Ben’s atrocity of a sandwich. They must have the same weird taste buds. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia takes off, running straight out towards the living room, probably for her daily sprints, wearing the oversized shirt as a dress, and sandwich in hand. </p><p> </p><p>Ben left all of this stuff for her. For Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>He knows she likes all this horror stuff. Just like he did as a kid.</p><p> </p><p>Rey <em> does </em>let one tear slip, only one though, but she’s quickly wiping it away. </p><p><br/><br/>...And then she watches with pained hilarity as her four-year-old promptly runs <em> straight </em>into the wall, the crashing sound louder than Rey’s aching laughs.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BTW, Halloween is not really a thing in France and neither is Trick Or Treating. Alas- why Amelia did not go out on the 31st (even if she loves all that stuff).</p><p> </p><p>I promise Amelia will get to go next year but she will probably bite another kid in the process--!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0042"><h2>42. November 5th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We will get back to Ben I promise! But next chapters will be Rey and Amelia. </p><p>(and THANK YOU to the wonderful reactions to each chapter! I am genuinely shocked at the response to this story. I read all your comments, and I will try to reply when I can!)</p><p>- Chaney</p><p>Also we had an artist, @SophyAlcachofi make <a href="https://twitter.com/SophyAlcachofi/status/1349916018307715073">THIS</a> amazing fanart of last chapter! I love it so, so much. It captures Amelia's chaotic nature so well.</p><p>And I made one too lol, but <a href="https://twitter.com/dachenabritta/status/1349952830967144449">here's</a> the Jigsaw-Bread-Bedside scene.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Another three days pass. </p><p> </p><p>They’re quiet. Peaceful, in one sense or another. </p><p> </p><p>Sure, Amelia has had approximately seven tantrums during these past days, but they’re all reasonable. She misses her <em> real </em> home. She misses eating <em> cassoulet </em> with her <em> Maman. </em> She misses the Church’s bells that sang <em> home </em>every day at noon and dinnertime. </p><p> </p><p>Rey reminds her that besides a few specific French-only things, Amelia will be living the <em> exact </em> same happy life she did in Vézelay because she is with her <em> Maman </em>and Rey is with Amelia, and that’s all they need to be happy. </p><p> </p><p>She only pouts in response. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia also continues to wear Ben’s old clothes. Rey won’t admit it, but having her wear these loose, comfortable shirts day and night has made dressing the squirmy toddler <em> eons </em> better. No more fighting her powerful little legs to get some pants on. No more tight tops and itchy collars.</p><p> </p><p>And because the graphics on the t-shirts are apparently scary enough for Amelia’s taste, she’s forgone wearing a mask as well. </p><p> </p><p>It’s nice seeing her face again. Besides during bath and bedtime, of course. </p><p> </p><p>Rey would never say it, but when Amelia began her mask obsession a couple years ago, it was almost a relief. She was beginning to look more like Ben each and every day. </p><p> </p><p>Another painful reminder, Rey supposes. </p><p> </p><p>Her job hunting is going fine too. The Wi-Fi wasn’t set up until yesterday, making the process harder, but she’s not necessarily in any rush. There’s still enough money to cover at <em> least </em>the next year. </p><p> </p><p>Someone knocks at the door that night. The grocery delivery, Rey thinks. But she wishes it was-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>NO.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben is still the <em> last </em>person she wants to see. </p><p> </p><p>That’s what Rey keeps telling herself, over and over.</p><p> </p><p>It’s what she repeats when she approaches the door anyways and finds Ben outside of it, <em>yet again</em>, his face dry and solemn, brows knitted. </p><p> </p><p>With another cardboard box. </p><p> </p><p>He knocks a few more times <em> knowing </em>they’re home. </p><p> </p><p>They need to talk, there’s no doubt about it.</p><p> </p><p>Just maybe not...<em> right </em>now.</p><p> </p><p>Ben sets the box down and leaves. Her foot taps insistently as Rey times how long it would take for the coast to clear and then she’s snatching the cardboard up again.</p><p> </p><p>This box is significantly heavier. Heavy enough that she hefts the thing onto the kitchen table and lets it thud dramatically. The sound brings Amelia into the room shockingly fast as her grubby hands start pawing at the cardboard flaps.</p><p> </p><p>“Shits! More shits!”</p><p> </p><p><em> Maybe we should just stick to French for now, </em>Rey thinks since Amelia’s pronunciation still hasn't improved. </p><p> </p><p>That’s what kindergarten will be for, at least. </p><p> </p><p>“Hold on, Amelia- <em> attendez- </em>” Rey grabs the flaps too and wrestles them open. There aren’t any more clothes, much to Amelia’s disappointment, but instead, a dozen or so paperback books. </p><p> </p><p>“What…?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey takes out a few: <em> Plague Pit, Night-Shriek </em> and <em> The Morgrow Rises! </em>Their covers are horrifying, like the imagery on his old shirts; women with bloody, drooling necks and monsters only a psychopath could muster.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia is already leafing through <em> Eden’s Eyes.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Où sont les pictures?" </em> she asks, offering the text covered pages out to her mother. </p><p> </p><p>Rey takes the book from her hands and closes it. “There’s no pictures in these books, <em> mon chou. </em> They’re for grown-ups. And grown-ups can read without pictures. <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia squints at her, not convinced, and grabs another book, doing the same thing again. When she finds no pictures in <em> that </em>one as well, Amelia is frantically pulling the rest of the books out and flipping through them, tears swelling in her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>I WANT PICTURES!” </em></p><p> </p><p>She screams out in toddler agony. All Rey can do is sigh and let tantrum number<em> who knows </em> ride out, Amelia throwing herself to the floor in Ben’s shirt, surrounded by Ben’s old books. </p><p> </p><p>Rey pulls out her phone from her back pocket and dials Leia’s number. It rings a couple times before she answers. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey! It’s wonderful to hear from you.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Leia. Sorry I’ve been MIA.”</p><p> </p><p>She pinches her temple as the screams sound through the phone. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Sounds like Amelia is having a little fit right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs again as she moves to the living room instead. “That’s what I’m calling about. Can you please tell Ben to stop bringing stuff over? She’s upset because the <em> adult </em>novels he brought don’t have photos in them.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia half-laughs, half-coughs across the line. “She <em> wants </em>to see all that nasty stuff? The blood and killing things?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yes,” </em> Rey groans. She knows how strange it is for a four-year-old to be as obsessed with the macabre as she is, but Rey’s not going to deny her love and passions- no matter how fucking weird they are. “And her English is bad enough that if I read them to her, she’ll only understand a small chunk.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia hums. “I’ll let him know. But Ben’s not really listening to me right now. Well- he <em> was, </em>but he’s pretty much been staying cooped up in the guest bedroom.”</p><p> </p><p>Huh. Maybe this is all affecting him a little worse than Rey initially thought. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s been...eating, right?” Rey almost whispers. “Ben’s taking care of himself?”</p><p> </p><p>This is probably the first time in almost a decade where she <em> cared </em>about Ben’s wellbeing. </p><p> </p><p>Does that make her a monster?</p><p> </p><p>“He’ll live,” Leia grumbles. “When can I come see you two again?”</p><p> </p><p>Can’t deny a grandmother her wishes, of course. Rey already feels horrible enough for how long she’s kept Amelia away from her Grandma- her <em> only </em>grandparent, but things are still sensitive. </p><p> </p><p>“How about this weekend?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!” Leia exclaims back, perhaps too quickly. “This weekend. I’ll bring some dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>It <em> does </em> feel nice having someone else like Leia who cares and <em> wants </em>to see them. For Amelia to have someone else besides Rey that she can love and depend on. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Rey replies, a smile on her face despite the ongoing cries. “I’ll see you then.”</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://i.pinimg.com/originals/6c/19/8a/6c198a340c02cd41f436f5ff9c91a135.jpg">Here's</a> an example of the books covers</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0043"><h2>43. November 9th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Turns out, Amelia doesn’t care if she can’t understand 75% of the content of the books. </p><p> </p><p>Rey reads to her before bed, and every other word or so, Amelia will ask <em> quoi? </em> and her mother explains the word and what it means. </p><p> </p><p>At least she’s...<em> learning. </em>Maybe not in the best way for a toddler, but it’s a start. </p><p> </p><p>Rey cleans the apartment to the best of her ability. Everything is unpacked. She still needs to buy some more dishes and a vacuum but at least they’re not living out of boxes anymore. </p><p> </p><p>She sets the table for her, Amelia and Leia that night. <em> Nuit de filles </em>only, she explains to Amelia when she asks if the man with the big ears is coming back, too. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s busy. And his name is <em>Ben</em>,” she hastily corrects, “- not <em> grandes oreilles </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>She whines, but helps set the silverware down anyways. Chores are<em> very</em> important to Amelia, a mindset Rey prays will carry into her teenage years, so she makes sure every fork and spoon are <em> perfectly </em>lined up in their spots. </p><p> </p><p>“Busy? Like my <em> Papa </em>is?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey chokes on her breath.</p><p> </p><p>“Um-”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia hasn’t brought up her father in...well, Rey doesn’t know how long. But seeing as they’re back in the States, and she’s been told that her father is, in fact, <em> trapped </em>here (so to speak), it was only a matter of time until Amelia started putting two and two together. </p><p> </p><p>“...yes.”</p><p> </p><p>She hums and jumps a little. “Can I see him?”</p><p> </p><p><em> That </em>makes Rey’s entire stomach drop. </p><p> </p><p>Can she even tell Amelia that she’s already met her father numerous times now? That he’s carried her, and saved her and is the one giving her the gifts?</p><p> </p><p><em> Never tell her, </em> her brain screams. <em>Protect her.</em></p><p> </p><p><em> Maybe in a little bit, </em> her heart counteracts. <em>She deserves to know.</em></p><p> </p><p>But Rey says neither of the contradicting statements. She just goes with what she always says:</p><p> </p><p>“Your father is busy.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia looks disappointed. Rey hates it. But the moment is thankfully broken by Leia’s knock at the front door. </p><p> </p><p>“Coming!” </p><p> </p><p>She yanks it open without second thought, smile adoring her face to the sight of-</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ben? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She squeaks his name. She <em> seriously </em>was not expecting him to be here. </p><p> </p><p>“You...you finally answered your door.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben isn’t smiling but he does appear relieved. </p><p> </p><p>And he’s holding <em> yet another box.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“I-I wasn’t expecting y-,” she tries to explain, eyes darting to the open box. “Did Leia send you?”</p><p> </p><p>His lip turns downward. “Why would Leia send me?”</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>So apparently Ben and Leia <em> really </em>aren’t talking right now. </p><p> </p><p>Out of habit, Rey steps out of the doorframe and starts rifling through the contents of the now <em> third </em> cardboard box. </p><p> </p><p>She sighs when she catches what he brought today. </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t just keep…<em> buying </em> her things, Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a PS2; complete with three controllers, all the necessary wires and a handful of games.</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t buy any of this stuff.” He shrugs, nervous. “Leia did, like, fifteen years ago.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey rubs a hand across her forehead as she groans.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not- <em> ugh </em> - That’s not what I meant, and you know it. And she’s <em> four </em> . I’m not letting her play-“ she plucks one of the games out from the box, “- <em> Grand Theft Auto </em>”. </p><p> </p><p>Ben shifts back and forth on his feet. “I just thought she’d like it. I don’t really know what a four year old plays with.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Clearly</em>,” Rey whispers, tossing the disc back. “Look, this whole…situation must be a lot for you to be taking in, but there’s a reason I wanted some time alone. We don’t want to be an inconvenience to you-“</p><p> </p><p>“-<em> That’s not fair </em>,” he interrupts.</p><p> </p><p>Rey blinks back in shock. “What’s not fair?” </p><p> </p><p>“Saying you’re an inconvenience.”</p><p> </p><p>“But…but we are.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is that not obvious?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Who made that decision? You?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t miss the extra dip in Ben’s voice. </p><p> </p><p>He’s exhausted. Confused. Lost. Rey can see it in his eyes. In the way he swallows like his entire stomach is coming back up his throat. </p><p> </p><p>“Have a nice rest of your night, Ben,” she says with a final puff of her chest. This is <em>not </em>a talk Rey is capable of having right now. </p><p> </p><p>She wants him gone, just for now. </p><p> </p><p>“And get rid of that dusty thing. Amelia’s too young to play violent games like that.”</p><p> </p><p>His face drops when he sees her reach for the door. “But-!”</p><p> </p><p>Rey slams it shut, cutting off Ben’s near screech. He knocks a few more times, but it only makes Rey deadbolt the lock.</p><p> </p><p><em> “She watches fucking Nightmare on Elm street!” </em>Ben shouts, muffled through the crack of the door.</p><p> </p><p>God, he is <em> frustrating. </em>It’s something she loves and hates about Ben. Stubborn ass. </p><p> </p><p>“There are <em> hookers </em> in GTA you idiot!” she retaliates. </p><p> </p><p>There’s no response. Rey stands still, ear aching for a sound. But he must have given up. </p><p> </p><p>Good. </p><p> </p><p>They’ll talk.</p><p> </p><p>Soon. </p><p> </p><p>Just...</p><p> </p><p>Not right now.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0044"><h2>44. November 9th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“I don’t think it’s working,” Ben huffs, arms crossed and two beers into the night. </p><p> </p><p>His mother returned from dinner only a few minutes ago, but Ben has already decided that his depressed and drawled streak is stopping. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> needs </em>to speak to Leia. </p><p> </p><p>She puts away a few dishes that he washed and dried, listening to him even though she really doesn't <em> need </em>to. Maybe Leia wants to. Who knows. </p><p> </p><p>“What? Your deliveries?” She asks over her shoulder. “The ones I told you to <em> stop </em>doing?”</p><p> </p><p>He groans and takes another sip of beer.</p><p> </p><p>Ben hasn’t been drinking a lot lately. So he could be better. Feel better, too.</p><p> </p><p>But he needed a fucking beer.</p><p> </p><p><em> Leia </em> gets to see his daughter. <em> Leia </em> gets to have dinner with Rey. And <em> Leia, </em> his <em> mother- </em> is the only one currently speaking to Rey, the mother of <em> his </em>child. </p><p> </p><p>Ben shouldn’t be angry.</p><p> </p><p>It’s more of a bland frustration. Instead of red-hot fury, it’s gray and tasteless. But still there nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t know what else to do. Han just bought me shit whenever he came home. And that’s all he did.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia lets a cupboard slam and glares at him. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s not all he did for you and you <em> know </em> it, Benjamin. I understand the situation is still a lot, but your father tried his best…” She cringes. “ <em> Okay, </em>so maybe Han could have been a bit better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Exactly.”</p><p> </p><p>How many times do they have to go around in this tormenting circle?</p><p> </p><p>Ben clearly has no idea how to be a father. </p><p> </p><p>“I doubt Rey even let Amelia near that old stuff I gave them,” he sighs. “She told me to throw away the Playstation the minute she saw it. Apparently a child can watch someone’s head get chopped off in a movie, but <em> Heaven forbid- </em>they see a hooker in a video game.”</p><p> </p><p>The kitchen goes silent. Ben looks up to see his mother trying to stifle a laugh. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “What?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She releases the laugh anyways and he could not be more confused. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia has been wearing <em> nothing </em>but your old shirts.”</p><p> </p><p>A spark of hope suddenly flashes. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey can’t get her to wear pants at this rate because Amelia wears them like dresses. I recognized <em> all </em>of the graphics during dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben gulps, nervous to ask. </p><p> </p><p>“And...and the books?”</p><p> </p><p>He thought Amelia would like the covers, at least. </p><p> </p><p>Hoped.</p><p> </p><p>Leia smiles, planting herself across from Ben. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey reads them to her every night now. She skips the sex and gore scenes- don’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>His breaths shorten; happy and relieved but also concerned that Rey is <em> reading </em>those books to Amelia, just like how he’s concerned about their tiny living space and that car that’s bound to break down at any poin-</p><p> </p><p>“Benjamin? Hello?”</p><p> </p><p>He must have been distracted again. Can’t have that keep happening. </p><p> </p><p>Especially when Ben returns to work. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ugh. Work.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Never in his life has Ben actually <em> detested </em> the idea of returning to the office after a vacation. Usually, he’s itching to log back in and just <em> do work </em>, but for some reason, the sensation is not currently present. </p><p> </p><p>Snoke is not going to be happy about Ben’s minor...<em> getaway.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Yes, sorry,” he awkwardly says, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What were you saying?”</p><p> </p><p>She reaches out and pats his hand sympathetically. </p><p> </p><p>“I was trying to say that you shouldn’t be worrying so much about Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben quirks a brow.</p><p> </p><p>“But I need her to like me?”</p><p> </p><p>Leia tries not to roll her eyes. Ben can tell because her cheeks scrunch and her lips tighten. </p><p> </p><p>“And <em> that </em> is something Han would say to me. All the time.” She takes in a breath. “And I won’t lie, I always felt rather envious when he asked me, ‘<em>What do I need to do to make Ben smile?’” </em></p><p> </p><p><em>Envious</em>…?</p><p> </p><p>Oh.</p><p> </p><p>“Han didn’t ever try to make<em> you </em>smile.” </p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t even ask it like a question. The implication is there. And the more he looks back, the more Ben realizes that Han was not only a pretty shitty father- he was a pretty shitty husband in the same aspect, too.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not like he’ll be ever marrying Rey, of course.</p><p> </p><p>(She’d never allow it.)</p><p> </p><p>But Leia does have a point. </p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you should aim for a different target. Rey <em> is </em>a woman, after all.” </p><p> </p><p>Yes. Rey is a woman. </p><p> </p><p>A mother. </p><p> </p><p>A <em> very </em> beautiful woman and mother. </p><p> </p><p>“And although she’s still pissed right now, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to show up at her doorstep with roses rather than another cardboard box.”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe Ben <em> is </em>going about this the wrong way. He’s glad Amelia is loving the gifts. The thought seriously does wonders to his heart, but he didn’t take enough time to realize that his heart wasn’t the only one in need of mending. </p><p> </p><p>He hasn’t bought flowers for anyone in <em> years.  </em></p><p> </p><p>But Ben thinks that will soon be changing.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0045"><h2>45. November 14th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I tried taking a day off and it did not work lol. You guys keep commenting and it makes me want to keep writing. Quite a cycle lol. (I love it DONT WORRY)</p><p>Chaney &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strike> <em> Eggs </em> </strike>
</p><p><em> <strike>Parsley</strike> </em> <strike>  </strike></p><p>
  <strike> <em> Onion (sweet) </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Nutmeg </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <strike> <em> Bacon </em> </strike>
</p><p>
  <em> Parmesan </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey crosses off each item as she gathers them from the aisles. They didn’t have the most of the ingredients for <em> quiche lorraine </em>, requested by Amelia, and the delivery app was already closed for the remainder of the day.</p><p> </p><p>Alas, why Rey is currently pushing a cart loaded with ingredients through their very chaotic and crowded grocery store. </p><p> </p><p>She still isn’t used to the noise of American establishments. But at least Amelia is enjoying her ride in the cart. There were only hand-baskets in Vézelay.</p><p> </p><p>Her feet swing as they dangle from the child seat. It’s exciting- leaving the house after being cooped up for as long as they’ve been. And Amelia was <em> extra </em>excited to wear today’s shirt out and about, which features a zombie eating a bloody and rotting brain.</p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t miss the side-eyed glances from some of the other moms. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever. </p><p> </p><p>They can judge all they want. Amelia is happy. </p><p> </p><p>She grabs two plastic bags of parmesan, since they both like their quiche cheesy, and tosses them into the cart. With her pen, Rey crosses off the last item and hands the paper and pen to Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“You can draw on the paper now. <em> Maman </em> just needed her list first.”</p><p> </p><p>Her face lights up, greedily grabbing the items and quickly beginning to scribble random shapes. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Merci!” </em> Amelia smiles. “I’m gonna draw zombie!”</p><p> </p><p>Rey just chuckles and heads towards the checkout lines. The store is packed today, and they can’t really go to the express lane, so she just scoots the cart over to the shortest one. </p><p> </p><p>Pulling out her phone, Rey checks for any emails. Nobody has gotten back to her regarding job applications. But she does have a missed call and voicemail that she can check once they get home. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia suddenly starts going ballistic in the cart seat, legs kicking, and pointing over Rey’s shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oreilles!” </em>Her shoes bang loudly against the cart’s metal grate.<em> “Grandes</em> <em>oreilles!”</em></p><p> </p><p>Rey knows <em> exactly </em>what Amelia is pointing to. </p><p> </p><p>Or rather <em> who.  </em></p><p> </p><p>She takes a deep breath and turns around, mentally preparing herself. </p><p> </p><p>Surprise, surprise, there’s Ben, <em> grandes oreilles, </em>as Amelia has now lovingly nicknamed him, squatting a few aisles over and grabbing something off the lowest shelf. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t hear Amelia’s squealing at first. But she hits a very high and very <em> screechy </em>note that makes Ben’s head suddenly snap towards their direction.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is he… </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Is Ben<em> blushing? </em></p><p> </p><p>The pink decorating his cheeks is unfamiliar on him but no less welcomed. And it probably matches <em> her </em>inevitable flush. </p><p> </p><p>From anger, of course. </p><p> </p><p>No other reason. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia will absolutely lose her shit in the middle of this crowded store if she’s denied her chance to see Ben. And Rey doesn’t think she can handle another tantrum- no less in public. </p><p> </p><p>So, despite her extreme hesitance, Rey nods her head towards Amelia and invites him into their space. </p><p> </p><p>She watches his feet take short, heavy steps because she can’t look up and keep staring at his face. Instead, Rey just keeps her eyes trained to the ground. </p><p> </p><p>It’s easier. Less messy. </p><p> </p><p><em> Only for Amelia, </em>she keeps repeating to herself. </p><p> </p><p>Ben clears his throat and her eyes snap up to meet his. There’s a strange silent agreement as he asks permission with just a look, and Rey is then stepping aside.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, Amelia,” he says, voice hoarse. “I like your shirt.”</p><p> </p><p>She repeats back to his greeting <em> Allo! Hi! Zombie! Allo!  </em></p><p> </p><p>It’s stupidly cute. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s crazy running into you here, Ben,” Rey finally says to his back. She takes a second to inspect the contents of his hand basket: wine, Doritos, frozen mashed potatoes, frozen ravioli and-</p><p> </p><p>“Are those <em> roses? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>His entire back tenses as Ben turns around like a ballerina in a music box. She’s probably just as tense as he is, or worse, considering it’s been an entire minute and nobody has argued- <em> yet. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Um. Yes.” His blush is deepening. Why is Ben Solo blushing? And in front of<em> her?  </em>“This is...super awkward.”</p><p> </p><p>She gives a half-suppressed laugh. “No kidding.”</p><p> </p><p>Frozen pasta and potatoes. Doritos and wine. Whoever Ben is cooking for tonight will be dining in luxury. The roses must be a distraction from his poor cooking skills. Rey pities the mystery woman already. </p><p> </p><p>The line moves forward a cart and Rey pushes hers, Ben following along with them. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you...do you and Amelia have plans tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Well, <em> that </em>confuses her. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m just making dinner. Why?” Her eyes dart down to the basket again. “Don’t <em> you </em>have plans?” </p><p> </p><p>He coughs into his fist. “I was buying the roses for you, actually.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey stills. Like someone’s tased her. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Oh.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She feels shocks of electricity vibrate through her.</p><p> </p><p>“For <em> m-me? </em>” she smoothly spurts. “What...what are you talking about?”</p><p> </p><p>Now it’s her turn to go tomato red as Rey tries to distract the situation by smoothing down Amelia’s hair. The little girl just watches everything unfold, unaware of the actual heat of this exchange. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s why I was buying the food, too,” Ben tells her, motioning to the basket. “I’m not really a world-class chef or anything, but I wanted to cook dinner for you and Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. It’s almost endearing. </p><p> </p><p>“You know...so you could have a night off. To relax.”</p><p> </p><p>The way he whispers the words like he’s frightened shines a new light on Ben. A light that’s become a little bit brighter each time she sees him. </p><p> </p><p>Ben is trying. </p><p> </p><p>Desperately. </p><p> </p><p>Not even just for Amelia, apparently.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s really kind of you, Ben.” She feels kind of bad now. For embarrassing them <em> both.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey looks into her loaded cart, all the supplies for making a complete homemade dinner. Amelia asked for quiche, so it’s really her decision in the end. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia,” Rey asks, turning back to her, “Ben would like to make us ravioli for dinner tonight. <em> Est-ce okay? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She scrunches her face, probably trying to understand the English. She also doesn’t know what ravioli is. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Peut-il cuisiner des cerveaux?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia thrusts the grocery-list-now-turned-doodle-pad towards Ben. He takes it, confused. “I don’t- I don’t understand what she said.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs. Amelia is <em> horrible </em>at giving real answers. </p><p> </p><p>“She asked if you could cook us brains instead.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ah. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He looks down at the doodle, then to the shirt. </p><p> </p><p>“Is this supposed to be a zombie?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia kicks her feet again. “Yes! Zombie!”</p><p> </p><p>Why did she bother asking the four-year-old again?</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t think she cares what we’ll eat, so if you want to come over and make us dinner...” </p><p> </p><p>Rey can’t believe what she’s agreeing to. </p><p> </p><p>“...you can.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben perks up like he used to as a kid. Especially after his moody episodes. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia does the same thing, she idly realizes. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” he breathes out with a grin. </p><p> </p><p>Rey thinks she might be grinning too.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0046"><h2>46. February 22nd, 1998</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben rattles through Han’s toolkit while Rey patiently waits next to him, on her tippy toes, trying to see what he’s searching for. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah-<em>ha!” </em></p><p> </p><p>He yanks a hammer out from the bottom and proudly shows it off to Rey, who claps for him. He bows as she giggles.</p><p> </p><p>“For you,” he says, handing her the hammer.</p><p> </p><p>Rey gladly takes it. It’s heavy, but not too heavy. She tries swinging it in the air with both hands while Ben hunts for something else. </p><p> </p><p>He raises up some kind of tool, it’s smaller than the hammer, with a grin on his face.</p><p> </p><p>“And for <em> me.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben walks them over to the <em> Falcon </em>. It’s parked in the garage for the winter and Han said last time when he was home that it needed repairs. </p><p> </p><p>So Ben and Rey have decided to repair the <em> Falcon </em> themselves.</p><p> </p><p>He wants to surprise his dad. Badly. And seeing at the <em> Falcon </em> is one of Han’s most prized possessions, Rey can’t imagine a better way.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay Rey, you take the back bumper. I’ll repair the wheels.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods and salutes with the hammer. “Aye, aye!”  </p><p> </p><p>They take off to their respective areas, both of them excited and eager to work on a real car. </p><p> </p><p>Rey’s about to slam the hammer into the bumper when she suddenly stands back up and quirks her brow. </p><p> </p><p>“Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>He stands back up too.</p><p> </p><p>“Yea?”</p><p> </p><p>“What <em> are </em>we fixing?”</p><p> </p><p>He’s quiet for a minute as he mulls over what Han must have said. It was almost two weeks ago. So the memory isn’t exactly fresh. </p><p> </p><p>“Dad said that the oil needed to be fixed. And because metal is made out of oil, and the car is made out of metal, we have to fix <em> all </em>of the car.”</p><p> </p><p>Ah. That makes perfect sense. And Ben is a genius. So of <em> course </em>he’ll know what to do.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay!” she calls back, hunching back to the bumper. </p><p> </p><p>Rey brings the hammer up into the air and lets it crunch with a satisfying <em> thud </em>to the exterior of the Camaro. </p><p> </p><p>She hears Ben do the same thing with his smaller tool to the wheels, which are also metal. </p><p> </p><p>They keep at it for what feels like <em> hours, </em>circling the car and smacking the hammer and tool against the surface until Leia suddenly opens the door to the garage. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>What</em> is that banging-”</p><p> </p><p>She gasps. Shocked. </p><p> </p><p>And that’s when Rey realizes that maybe Ben didn’t really know what he was talking about. </p><p> </p><p>After a <em> thorough </em>lecture, Leia drives the Falcon to the auto shop later that day.</p><p> </p><p>She makes her and Ben promise that they’ll never tell Han what they did. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>In this fic, the Falcon is a '67 Camaro.<br/>Just salt in the wound lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0047"><h2>47. November 14th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi everyone. Welcome back to Thorns.</p><p>I <i>love</i> it when you guys comment. But I had an anon leave a rather…interesting one on a way earlier chapter on Tuesday. I was already having a pretty bad day work and personal-wise, so it kind of made me crack. If you follow me on twitter, you were aware that I totally logged out. And I’m glad I did. </p><p>I’m not going to moderate comments because I honestly don’t want to. But please keep this in mind: I read every. single. word. </p><p>I get that Ben has been a dick. It’s part of his arc. But we still have a while to go.</p><p>Yes, Rey was in the wrong. She is not a saint. And she has more to worry about than Ben now.</p><p>Sorry if this is a lot for a A/N. But things were getting a little out of control. My two best friends in this fandom, Bee and Kira, literally had to talk me off a ledge regarding this fic. I love it so, so much, and I plan to keep updating constantly and with passion because that’s what this story deserves. </p><p>Chaney</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>For the first time in two weeks, Rey opens the door to her apartment and Ben is actually allowed to step through the door frame. </p><p> </p><p>He tries steadying his breath as Amelia leads them both into the kitchen, holding her own bag of groceries, while Rey carries a few others and Ben carries the remainder of her bags <em> and </em>his.</p><p> </p><p>He’s got big hands anyways. Might as well do something useful with them.</p><p> </p><p>They dump them all on the counter with a satisfying huff, Amelia having to go on her tippy toes to reach the granite. Once her task is done, she places her hands on her hips, huffs and then <em> sprints </em>towards the living room. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>MamanI’mgonnawatchSesameStreet!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey begins to unpack the plastic bags, calling back, “Only one episode, <em> s’il te plait!” </em></p><p> </p><p>There’s no response. The sounds of Elmo and Bird Bird and Cookie Monster begin to hum from the TV anyways.</p><p> </p><p>“Can’t pry her away from the TV sometimes,” Rey weakly chuckles. “I’m pretty sure she’ll be addicted to <em> Wonder Pets </em> and <em> Sesame Street </em> by the end of the month.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben awkwardly stands in the kitchen, pulling out his meager dinner supplies, unsure how to respond besides a nod of understanding.</p><p> </p><p>It’s times like this that make him feel less of a man. He can’t usually make <em> toast </em>without burning it. </p><p> </p><p>Also, Amelia was the buffer. </p><p> </p><p>A nice distraction, cutting the thick and suffocating tension between him and Rey. It’s clear <em> she </em>doesn’t want to talk yet. And Ben honestly doesn’t know what to say when she decides to listen.</p><p> </p><p>So, he goes for quite literally the easiest subject to talk about instead. </p><p> </p><p>“The weather has been pretty cold.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey is throwing food into the fridge when Ben randomly states the very plain and <em> stupid </em>fact about the current temperature. Of course it’s fucking cold. It’s November. And they don’t live on a tropical island. </p><p> </p><p>She stills, holding a carton of eggs. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh...yes.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Say something back, you big dumb fucking idi- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben clears his throat, already trying to save the conversation. “Did you like the climate in France?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey closes the fridge as he asks, and thankfully, doesn’t freeze. She just shrugs instead. </p><p> </p><p>“It was similar to here, I guess. Hot summers, rainy winters. Spring was the best time though.” She smiles at the mention of Spring. “The wildflowers that grew in our yard were beautiful.”</p><p> </p><p>They dance around any kind of dangerous subject as Rey finishes putting away all the groceries. She tells him about the 1,400 square-foot home they lived in. Ben explains his current renting problem. They both complain that housing is too expensive anywhere you go. </p><p> </p><p>“I thought nothing cost too much for you, Ben,” she says much quieter. </p><p> </p><p>He’s still leaning against the counter, unsure of when he can start cooking. What Rey whispers is not necessarily an insult <em> per se </em>, since it’s only the truth to a man in his position. </p><p> </p><p>But it makes him stand up straighter anyways, his elbow lifted off the granite and arms crossed instead. </p><p> </p><p>He’s about to defend himself when Amelia suddenly comes running back in, holding out one of his old books, <em>Monsters Rise!</em>She jabs it into her mother’s thigh, Rey turning around and blinking down at the small girl. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>“Peux-tu me lire?”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t need a translator to know that Amelia’s asking Rey to read her the book. And <em> that </em> one is especially gory. He has no idea how she’s reading them <em> and </em> understanding a coherent story at the same time. </p><p> </p><p>Rey looks back to the stove, then to Amelia again, taking the book in her hands. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Maman </em> has to make dinner, <em> mon chou. </em> It’s almost six- <em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>“I thought I was cooking tonight?” Ben interrupts, confused. “You can read to her while I make dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a strange onset of silence where Rey just...<em> stares </em>at him, calculating. He can tell by the flicker of her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“I-I don’t know if-” Rey takes a breath, her smile breaking. “It’s sweet that you want to cook but I kept thinking about it and honestly, I don’t want you to set off the smoke detector. Or ruin my pans….or burn down my kitchen, if we’re being realistic here.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben knew they lacked more than one level of trust. </p><p> </p><p>But this is just ridiculous.</p><p> </p><p>“So <em> you’re </em> going to make the ravioli? I thought I was supposed to be treating you girls tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia whines, still holding the book up. Rey rubs at her temples, pink-faced. </p><p> </p><p>“Ben, I <em> really </em>don’t want-”</p><p> </p><p>He grabs the pan anyways from the stove, holding it high in the air, which not only distracts Amelia but widens Rey’s eyes in shock. </p><p> </p><p>“Give that back!” She tries jumping, but it’s a futile task.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia laughs as her mother jumps a second, then third time, hand clawing at Ben’s bicep.  </p><p> </p><p>“Frog!” she shouts at Rey. “Froggy!” she repeats, jumping alongside Rey, not understanding what’s happening. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey, I can <em> do </em> it- <em> Ow!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>She accidentally lands on his foot during the final jump.</p><p> </p><p>In the pain and pure chaos, Ben lowers the pan unwillingly and Rey is quick to snatch it from his grip. </p><p> </p><p>She points the skillet at him, then to the chair. “Either sit and <em> behave, </em>or I’m kicking you out again, Benjamin.”</p><p> </p><p>Her tone is no-nonsense. And probably used a <em> lot </em>on Amelia, judging by the way the little girl shrinks back towards the fridge. </p><p> </p><p>But Ben isn’t a child. </p><p> </p><p>He’s a grown-ass <em> man.  </em></p><p> </p><p>A grown-ass man who just wants to heat up some fucking frozen ravioli and mashed potatoes for his daughter and the mother of his child. </p><p> </p><p>So, naturally, Ben reaches for the pan <em> again.  </em></p><p> </p><p>And in the process of trying to get it back, he knocks over the glass salt shaker on the counter. </p><p> </p><p>It seems to fall in slow-motion as they all watch; the container smashing to smithereens the moment it touches the tile floor. Salt and glass decorate everyone’s shoes. </p><p> </p><p>Not Amelia’s though- because Ben was able to grab her at the last possible second and hoist her safely up and away from the spray of splinters. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not enough to save him from Rey’s fury. </p><p> </p><p>“Get,” she whispers, “the <em> hell </em>out of my home.” </p><p> </p><p>Nobody moves for a second. Not even Amelia is wiggling. But then Rey is grabbing her daughter- <em> his </em>daughter back and crunching over the glass with angry steps, away from him and towards the bedrooms. </p><p> </p><p>“I didn't <em> mean to </em>-”</p><p> </p><p>Ben risks it all and grabs her forearm, which he <em> immediately </em> regrets when she slaps his hand away, <em>hard </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“I <em> knew </em> it was a b-bad idea letting you come over, and I w-was right because I haven’t been wrong <em> yet an-and- </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey stutters out each and every word, and with them, the night becomes a disaster all the quicker. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll clean up the glass,” he begs, feeling them slip away, “I promise,<em> please </em>, just let me stay-”</p><p> </p><p>It’s like every step he takes forward, sends him three more back. </p><p> </p><p>Especially when Rey tells him,</p><p> </p><p>“<em>You need to leave, Ben.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>With that voice, that tone. </p><p> </p><p>It scares him.</p><p> </p><p>Ben is more lost than he realized, he thinks, as Rey’s door closes behind him, obeying her wishes. </p><p> </p><p>The roses are still sitting on her kitchen counter. He was going to put them in a vase before he started dinner.</p><p> </p><p>Lost.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>So very, <em> very </em>lost.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0048"><h2>48. November 19th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh you thought things were going to be easy?<br/>lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>He still hasn’t gone back to work. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s nearing three weeks now- the longest vacation Ben has </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>taken in his number years of employment at First Order. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It seems like he went from intern to CBO in a matter of seconds. Snoke trusted him too quickly, in his own opinion. The power definitely fed something dark and poisonous to his ego and mind over the years. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Clearly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s pathetic now. His life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>living with his mother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next time he visits his real estate agent will be the last because Ben is going to murder him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Calm down, Solo. Jesus. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s what he’s been repeating to himself for days, echoing as a calming sentiment from the chaos of everything else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he’s back to not speaking to Leia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Which is...not so good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother has had her years of unimportance; of ignoring or antagonizing. She admitted her faults. Ben forgave her, in recent times. He’s not sure why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he really needs his mother right now to tell him </span>
  <em>
    <span>what the fuck to do. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Ben obviously doesn’t know. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He literally ruined his last chance by fighting Rey over a </span>
  <em>
    <span>pan</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stupid. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid, dumb idiot. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All they do is fight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hates it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wonders if Rey hates it, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben has no idea what time it is. He’s been sulking in the guest room, curtains drawn and laptop opened to the French audio lessons he’s been attempting to learn whilst in his depressive episode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He hasn’t learned much...yet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slams it shut, the audio cutting off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At this rate, he won’t need to learn French. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because Rey is </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>going to let him speak to Amelia ever again if things keep going as badly as they are. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he should just do what Han always did. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Run away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Run far, far away and ignore everything here. Let his brain and heart and body take a break for the rest of his life, where Ben can pull out his life savings and live alone in the mountains or some shit like that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I am not Han. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He has to keep telling himself that, too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reminding. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0049"><h2>49. November 3rd, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>NSFW warning for this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey is struggling to sleep.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This isn’t a new concept for her. When Amelia was just born, she hardly slept three hours a </span>
  <em>
    <span>night. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And her brain must have been conditioned since then to always stay awake and alert, just in case a cry sounded. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Amelia sleeps soundly now. Like a corpse, honestly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey still muffles herself anyways. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The fleshy part of her palm holds back all and any noises that may sound as her other hand works in furious circles beneath her plain, cotton panties. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s pretty sure these are package panties, AKA, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>least </span>
  </em>
  <span>sexy form of undergarments a woman could purchase. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever. It’s not like anyone will be seeing them anytime soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as her fingers slide and rub, nail clipping her clit every other stroke, the intrusive and unpredictable thought of </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe someone will see them </span>
  </em>
  <span>pops up in her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It only makes her moan.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Rey doesn’t understand why. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Because nobody</span> <span>and she means </span><em><span>nobody- </span></em><span>will be touching her for a very long time. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s made it five years without anything. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey can do another five. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or ten.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh god</span>
  <em>
    <span>, okay, </span>
  </em>
  <span>maybe not</span>
  <em>
    <span> ten. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That’s just a libido <em>nightmare.</em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the unrealistic thought urges something inside her anyways, chills running down her spine when she moves a finger down and pushes one, then two in, crooking them until her eyes feel watery. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey bites hard enough into her palm that there’s sure to be teeth marks in the morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She imagines hands much larger than hers, peeling off her sleep clothes piece by piece until she’s laid bare and vulnerable for the first time in years. The hands wander down her body, harsh palms a beautiful contrast to her smooth skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They lift and tease her. They hold her, embracing Rey’s entire body as she shudders and begs for </span>
  <em>
    <span>more. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her wrist is beginning to cramp as her fingers thrust faster and faster, building to a harsh peak. Hopefully, Rey can come hard enough tonight that she’ll sleep in later than six am. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not enough though. Every time she feels the wave begin to form, like a swallowing sea plump and ready to crash, it withers, causing her to whine and kick her legs in frustration. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Logically, in Rey’s mind, these hands must connect to...something, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No <em>one</em> in particular, of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the wandering hands soon become strong, thick forearms that lead to bulky biceps, growing to a bare chest that’s pale and strong, and then to a waist, hipbones and-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her finger suddenly hits a sweet spot and she’s almost there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Amelia is</span> <span>a heavy sleeper. So it </span><em><span>should</span></em><span> be fine when she moves the hand muffling her mouth under her shirt, pawing and squeezing her breasts in an unfulfilling way. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It helps. But Rey needs more. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the haze of imagination, the body is complete now, save for the empty space above his neck. Rey already knows what face would be there if she was stupid enough to form it, but they do say hatred is, in some form, a passion of its own.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And by god, does Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>what she sees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid</span>
  </em>
  <span> hair always looks good. Silky. Coiffed in a teasing yet formative style.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And those </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>eyes. Always so dark. The color of freshly ground espresso. Eyes that bore through her like a smoldering fire, kept in line by that </span>
  <em>
    <span>stupid </span>
  </em>
  <span>smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Stupid, stupid man.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as much as she curses him and all of his fortunate features, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>second </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey imagines those hands, <em>Ben’s</em> hands, touching her and filling her like they did a lifetime ago, she comes with a curse in her soul and his name dancing on her tongue. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shame is the first thing to hit her when the high eventually dies down. Which takes a while to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hot, mortifying </span>
  <em>
    <span>shame. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The only other reason her heart races later that night is when Amelia appears by her bedside, in the Jason mask now, asking for another goddamn loaf of bread. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey yelps. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At least she didn’t barge in a couple hours ago.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0050"><h2>50. November 20th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Fifty chapters...what happened...this was supposed to be EIGHTEEN. CHAPTERS.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The car starts making a weird sound the first ten minutes into their drive, which then escalates to a loud thudding against the hood until literal <em> smoke </em>begins to pour from under the exterior. </p><p> </p><p>They’re on the freeway when the gray smoke becomes too thick to even see out the window. </p><p> </p><p>Rey frantically pulls over, taking a breath and watching the smoke whither when she cuts the engine. </p><p> </p><p>She doubts it’ll explode. The Civic <em> is </em>a piece of shit. But just to be safe, she gets out of the car, rounds the smokeless trunk and plucks Amelia out from her car seat. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s happening, Maman? <em> Y a-t-il un feu? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey pulls out her phone and hovers over her limited contact list.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Je sais pas </em> , <em> mon chou </em>. I’m going to call for some help.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s cold but they’re both bundled pretty well. Doesn’t stop Amelia's jaw from chattering, though. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I go back in<em> la voiture </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>The smoke begins again and Rey groans. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Dammit... </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She has no one else to call but she hopes Leia will at least have AAA. </p><p> </p><p>Without answering Amelia’s question, she dials Leia’s number quickly and brings the phone to her ear. </p><p> </p><p>“Hello? Rey?<em> ” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hi Leia. Sorry to call so randomly again but I’m in a bit of a pinch.”</p><p> </p><p>“What’s going on? Are you two safe?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. At least, we’re relatively safe. The car might be blowing up soon, though.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s some shuffling and muffled noises through the line. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>B-blow up- </em>? Rey, where are you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh…” She turns over her shoulder to glance at the exit they’ve stopped by. Amelia sneezes into the crisp air.</p><p> </p><p>“Three miles from the offramp near your house. Southbound. I can call a tow truck, it’s just that Amelia is cold and I’m-”</p><p> </p><p>Sudden banging, like knocking, sounds from the other end of line.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sending Ben right now, don’t worry, he’s very good at speeding and hardly ever gets pulled over.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s heart drops. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No no no no not Ben please- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, Leia, don’t send Be-”</p><p> </p><p>There’s more shouting and scrambling and it’s getting to a point where she can hardly understand anything. </p><p> </p><p>“-<em>Take a coat too- keys! You need car keys, Benjamin!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hold on-” Rey attempts to halt the situation, her nerves already skyrocketing at the thought of Ben, out of all people, having to rescue them. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Again. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“-<em>garage door! Wait for it to open- I said WAIT, Jesus-!” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Leia!”</p><p> </p><p>The call suddenly drops. Or Leia hangs up. </p><p> </p><p>Rey tries to call back but it’s no success. Leia must be calling a tow truck too. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> FUCK.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She bounces Amelia on her waist, trying to warm her up and calm herself down. </p><p> </p><p>“It’ll be okay, <em> mon chou,” </em>Rey coos, rubbing the tip of her reddening nose with her thumb.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia sneezes again. Then she points over to the forest they are stuck next to. </p><p> </p><p>“Can we go in?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey looks over to the thick woods, the afternoon fog still encasing most of the branches and trunks. </p><p> </p><p>“Into the <em> forest?”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia nods. “<em>Jason y vit! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Maybe her four year old needs to lay off the scary movies. Because if Amelia keeps adoring her serial-killer icons like she does now, who knows where the <em> hell </em>she’ll gladly wander into. </p><p> </p><p>...Like into a foggy, creepy forest off the side of the highway. </p><p> </p><p>“How about today we’re princesses?” Rey tries to reason instead. “And we were on our way back to the kingdom and...and <em> bandits </em> stole our <em> chariot </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia giggles in response and Rey starts turning them in a slow circle, still bouncing her. </p><p> </p><p>“And now we’re stuck, oh no!” </p><p> </p><p>“Oh no!” Amelia repeats. </p><p> </p><p>They’re laughing together now, despite the temperature, and despite the fact that Rey will be soon dealing with the sole man in the world she does <em> not </em>want to see.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0051"><h2>51. March 10th, 2006</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW// Recreational Drugs (marijuana)</p><p>You can follow me on <a href="https://twitter.com/dachenabritta">Twitter</a> for sneak peeks and chapter updates!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“Solo, you down to smoke tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage’s voice sounds raspy through the landline, probably already a joint into the night.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh…”</p><p> </p><p>Ben looks down at his watch. It’s only seven PM. If they want to go to their usual smoke spot, they should probably wait at least another hour.</p><p> </p><p>“How about at eight?”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage grunts. “I want to smoke <em> now. </em>We can hotbox the car first.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, a solution <em> is </em>a solution. </p><p> </p><p>Ben agrees and waits a few minutes, and then Armitage is speeding into his driveway, a cloud of smoke accompanying his open door.</p><p> </p><p>He coughs when he tries to buckle into the seat.</p><p> </p><p>“Couldn’t have waited until we were <em> at </em>the school, dumbass?”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage just shrugs. </p><p> </p><p>Typical. </p><p> </p><p>The favorite smoke spot since ninth grade was the corner of the baseball field at their now previous high school. Ben was the only one of his friends to take a gap year, and Armitage is living at home for community college, so it’s just the two of them now.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage parks near the front of the school, by the massive theatre and garage. They both light up fairly quickly, taking deep hits from their collective stash, and let the car cloud up.</p><p> </p><p>“That hits the <em> spot,” </em>Armitage purrs. </p><p> </p><p>“Yea,” Ben agrees, exhaling, “it sure does.”</p><p> </p><p>Time passes quickly when you’re high, so the next time he glances down at the dash, Ben notices it’s almost nine o’clock. </p><p> </p><p>“We can probably start walking out there,” he slurs.</p><p> </p><p>Armitage coughs at his next hit. “Ah. Yea. We should.”</p><p> </p><p>They get out with an insane amount of smoke billowing out of Armitage’s Jeep. Thank <em>god</em> no one’s here to see th-</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, shit balls,” Armitage swears, looking in front of them.</p><p> </p><p>Outside of the theatre’s back door, stands a small group of high schoolers, all probably too young to drive and waiting for their parents. They stop conversing the minute Ben and Armitage stumble out, coughing and laughing.</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t say anything. His brain is far too gone to really form words full sentences anyways. </p><p> </p><p>“What are you kids doing here so late?” Armitage asks, for some reason. </p><p> </p><p>One of them, a boy, tightens his backpack straps and looks over to him.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s tech week. We’re here late everyday until the performances start.”</p><p> </p><p>Huh?</p><p> </p><p>“What the hell is a <em>tech week</em>?” Ben asks, tongue faster than brain. </p><p> </p><p>A girl pipes out this time. She looks older. </p><p> </p><p>“It just means we have super long rehearsals. And didn’t you guys graduate like- last year?”<br/><br/></p><p>Armitage lets out a laugh, rounding the car and grabbing Ben’s shoulders. “Yep! We’re free from this fucking prison finally. Looks like you guys have a while to go.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben laughs with him because <em> damn, </em>this particular strain is strong and usually he would never act this goofy but for some reason, he is. </p><p> </p><p>They keep laughing as they walk past the group of underclassmen towards the fields. But Ben suddenly stops when they’re only a few feet away from <em> all </em>of the younger faces.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait...<em>Rey?” </em></p><p> </p><p>He’s not sure it’s her because it’s still dark as hell out here and Ben is squinting to try and see. </p><p> </p><p>She takes a sharp inhale and frowns when they lock eyes.</p><p> </p><p>So it’s <em> definitely </em>Rey. </p><p> </p><p>“What do <em> you </em> want?” she grits out. </p><p> </p><p>Wow.</p><p> </p><p>She’s a lot more...<em> sour </em>than Ben remembers her being. </p><p> </p><p>“I- uh-” </p><p> </p><p>He rubs his hands over his brows, trying not to fall asleep where he stands. They’re only half into the night. </p><p> </p><p>When did his tolerance dip so bad?</p><p> </p><p>“Wanna come smoke with us?”</p><p> </p><p>And why the hell would Ben <em>offer</em> to smoke with her?</p><p> </p><p>He doesn't even <em>speak </em>to Rey anymore.</p><p> </p><p>And for god's sake, the last time she crossed paths with the ol' <em>Mary Jane</em>, she ended up in the fucking hospital. </p><p> </p><p>The older girl scoffs at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey will absolutely <em> not </em>smoke weed with you assholes. We could call the cops on you guys, right now, if we wanted to! You’re trespassing!”</p><p> </p><p>Armitage laughs and starts to pull at his arm. </p><p> </p><p>“C’mon Ben, let’s just go-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No,” </em>he spits out harshly, yanking away from his friend’s grip. “When did you start acting like such a little brat, Rey?” </p><p> </p><p>She scrunches her nose, entire face becoming red. The older girl, who was standing in front of her, takes a step to the side and allows Rey to come forward, nose flaring and fists clenched. </p><p> </p><p>“I mean,” Ben laughs, thinking back, “I guess you were basically a wild animal then too, so mayb-”</p><p> </p><p>Rey loads her elbows behind her and uses both palms to push Ben: six-foot-two, two hundred pound <em> Ben Solo, </em>to the ground. </p><p> </p><p>The high schoolers laugh as he stumbles. </p><p> </p><p>Hell, Armitage might be giggling too. </p><p> </p><p>It’s mortifying.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t talk to you anymore, Ben,” she whispers down to him, his <em>own</em> words from long, <em> long </em> ago used against him like boiling acid. “I’m a high schooler now. I’m too cool to be seen speaking to a <em> loser </em> like <em> you </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s startled. And high. </p><p> </p><p>Way, <em> way </em>too high. </p><p> </p><p>But while she says such horrible things, the very same things he told <em> her, </em>the look in Rey’s eyes tells a completely different story. </p><p> </p><p>It looks like...it’s-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Longing.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>For what? Ben never figures out. Even when Armitage picks his sorry ass up off the concrete and nearly drags him to the grass, he still doesn’t understand. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Ben wakes up the next morning, the incident already forgotten deep in the nethers of his hazy, weed-ridden mind. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0052"><h2>52. November 20th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Leia was right. </p><p> </p><p>He <em> is </em>fast. </p><p> </p><p>Because just as Rey begins to describe the <em> beautiful </em>gowns and priceless jewelry the make-believe bandits stole, Ben’s car, his black Aston Martin, is pulling over and parking right behind theirs. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah!” Amelia squeals and points, “<em>Un autre voleur! </em> Bandit, <em>Maman </em>!”</p><p> </p><p>Ben looks absolutely insane when he pushes the door open, eyes crazed and hair mused. He’s breathing hard, probably from the similar nerves Rey is dealing with too, and approaches them with great hesitation. </p><p> </p><p>Good. </p><p> </p><p>At least he’s learned <em> something </em>. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s uh- what happened?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia shrieks at the sight of Ben again and scrambles off of her mother’s waist, running <em> straight </em> towards him. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia, wait-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Allo grandes oreilles!” </em>She says, skipping over to him and grabbing the sleeve of his jacket. “Are you a bandit too?”</p><p> </p><p>His brow quirks in uncertainty. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Bandit? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey crosses her arms, not at all irked about how fast Amelia jumped ship the moment she laid eyes on her father who she doesn’t even <em> realize </em>is her father. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever. </p><p> </p><p>“Ooo! Or you’re a prince! <em> Prince Grand Oreilles!” </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ben </em> is here to drive us home,” she grits out, trying to divert the thought of equating Ben to <em> any </em> type of royalty<em>, </em> “and that’s exactly what he’s going to do: <em> just </em> drive us home.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia whines and doesn’t let go of his jacket. </p><p> </p><p>“We can’t play, <em> Maman?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her eye must twitch, Rey’s sure of it. But then another puff of smoke blows out from the car and Rey realizes there’s a much bigger problem fronting them currently. </p><p> </p><p>Ben walks past her towards the Civic, Amelia following his every step, as he goes to inspect what’s happening. Rey grabs her arm before she can get too close to the car again, though.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey! <em> Je veux aussi regarder!" </em> She pouts, watching him lift the metal hood. </p><p> </p><p>Rey picks her back up. “It’s too dangerous. It may blow up if Ben’s not careful. You know.” She waves her free hand to mimic an explosion. “<em> Boom!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia chews through the words in her head. Rey’s been <em> trying </em>to keep things mostly in English, and it might be working. But there’s still not enough terms that cross paths. </p><p> </p><p>“But...if <em> boom,” </em> Amelia furrows her face in thought, “will <em> grandes oreilles </em>get hurt?”</p><p> </p><p>She glances back over to <em> grandes oreilles, </em>who is literally head-first into the radiator, with only his shoulders and torso visible. </p><p> </p><p>If the engine blew this very second, Ben would most likely be thrown twenty feet from the car and suffer horrible, <em> awful </em>burns to his face and hands.</p><p> </p><p>Rey just shrugs. </p><p> </p><p>“He’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben works for a few more minutes as the girls watch until he’s slamming the hood down and walking back towards them. </p><p> </p><p>“The battery is busted. And you have a damaged cylinder.” He wipes grease onto the front of his jeans. “I think Leia already called for a truck so we just need to transfer your stuff to my car.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey nods and walks over to the back door, struggling to pry the car seat from it’s dozens of straps and buckles <em> while </em> still trying to hold Amelia and <em> god- </em> why do they make these things so <em> complicated </em> and <em> why </em> did Leia have to send <em> Ben </em> because she <em> hates </em> being so pathetic in front of him when they never needed him before, <em> why- ?  </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia sneezes again. This time, directly on Rey’s <em> face.  </em></p><p> </p><p>She cringes immediately, wiping the snot off of her eyelids and cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>No matter how much Rey will love her baby, snot and other bodily fluids are just <em> gross. </em></p><p> </p><p>And it’s the final thing to tip her over the edge of pure frustration. </p><p> </p><p>“Go with Ben!” Rey spits out, setting her down. “I can’t- Maman needs <em> to just </em>-”</p><p> </p><p>With both hands, she tugs a little <em> too </em>hard on the strap connecting the car seat’s headrest to the actual seat, causing the entire thing to snap. </p><p> </p><p>The buckle is not the only thing that snaps.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a good thing Amelia is already several feet away from the car, huddled behind Ben’s massive thigh when Rey lifts the entire car seat over her head and <em> slams </em>it into the cold dirt, letting out a growl of frustration much akin to a dinosaur. </p><p> </p><p>No one says anything, just like the other <em> disastrous </em>night. But this time, Rey is the one losing her shit. Acting the very child she treated Ben like. </p><p> </p><p>They’re <em> both </em> no better than the four-year-old. </p><p> </p><p>She closes her eyes, trying to regain herself. Ben comes closer, scooping up the fallen, <em> cursed </em>car seat with Amelia still gripping the back of his jacket. </p><p> </p><p>From the corner of her eye, Rey watches him open the door and set it up. He probably doesn’t know how to probably buckle everything in, but she doesn’t care right now. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey?” he calls, knocking her from her stupor. “Do you need me to grab anything el-?”</p><p> </p><p>“No.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Yes, please just take care of this, drive me home, don’t leave, please just- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She yanks her purse, keys and Amelia’s play bag from the passenger side, because Rey is<em> not </em>useless, then locks the car before stomping over to Ben’s, face lowered in embarrassment. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Pathetic.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Désolée, Maman </em>,” Amelia whispers. She must think it was her sneeze that made her mother so angry.</p><p> </p><p>She sighs, feeling horrible. Rey <em> hates </em>acting up in front of her. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ce n'était pas ta faute, mon chou </em> .” She’s too tired for English. And Ben doesn’t need to understand anything right now. “<em>Maman passe juste une dure journée. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>The car sets into a strange silence since Ben doesn’t play any music. Amelia is filling that void currently by softly singing the <em> Wonder Pets </em> theme song. </p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t think a single word of what she sings is actually a lyric. </p><p> </p><p><em> “It's a eebee panguan!” </em> she chants a little louder now. “<em>He’s fought the ice purr!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben swallows loud enough that everyone in the car must hear. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ear an animal in twouble! Look!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>His fingers drum against the wheel nervously. Like he’s waiting for something. </p><p> </p><p>Rey just stares at his hands rather than out the window. </p><p> </p><p>Hands that touched her far too long ago. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s about to start the next chorus, which also happens to be the loudest, and to Rey’s <em> insane </em>surprise, </p><p> </p><p>Ben sings along <em> with her.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Linny, Tuck and Ming Ming too.” </em></p><p> </p><p>His voice is drastically low compared to Amelia’s squealing sing-along.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “We're wonder pets and we'll help you-” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t sing loudly at all. But it accompanies the toddler gibberish to a point where the lyrics actually make sense. </p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t realize she’s been staring at him the entire time, eyes wide and jaw dropped. </p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t know <em> every </em>line and stops just a short time later, but it’s enough to put a smile back on everyone’s faces while Amelia continues howling the theme song on repeat, mostly to herself in the back seat. </p><p> </p><p>“I...uhh.” Rey blinks out to the road, speaking quietly over Amelia. “I d-didn’t realize you were an avid <em> Wonder Pets </em> viewer.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs, like it's no big deal that a bachelor in his mid-thirties knows the melody and lyrics to a child’s TV theme song. </p><p> </p><p>“You told me she liked it.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s still awe-struck as feelings she believed to be <em> so </em>solid become muddled and...confusing. </p><p> </p><p>“But I know the <em> Sesame Street </em> theme <em> way </em>better.”</p><p> </p><p>That same light that keeps trying to claw its way to Ben’s surface is fighting, and apparently fighting tooth and nail if he’s resorting to learning such particular and trivial things. Things that he <em> barely </em> heard about in one single, passing conversation. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Trying.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> He’s seriously trying, Rey.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They pull into Rey’s parking lot, Ben avoiding her spot and instead driving to the drop-off area in front of the main complex’s lobby. Amelia wraps up her final chorus and Rey starts to clap, like she usually does for her err-<em> excellent </em>concerts, and Ben joins too, mimicking. </p><p> </p><p>He helps her unload the car seat and walk everything upstairs, Amelia chatting with him the entire way up about the Wonder Pets and Elmo and all sorts of children’s nonsense, half the time in French. </p><p> </p><p>Ben smiles and listens, patiently. </p><p> </p><p>Rey almost feels bad that she’s not inviting him to stay. </p><p> </p><p>But she can’t take any more risks. </p><p> </p><p>At least, not today. </p><p> </p><p>She unlocks the door and promptly throws everything inside, the sudden thought of <em> they don’t have a functional car now </em>hitting her.</p><p> </p><p>“Thanks,” she mutters, grabbing Amelia’s hand off Ben’s jacket. “I’m sorry you had to come save us. <em> Again.” </em></p><p> </p><p>He fists his hands into the jacket pockets, actively trying not to shrug. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s the uh- it’s the least I could’ve done.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia tugs on her sweater. “<em>Ben peut-il rester ici?”  </em>the little girl asks, still unbeknownst to the intense situation between her parents. </p><p> </p><p>Rey gazes down at her with a sigh, wanting so <em> badly </em>to let him in and let Ben try again.</p><p> </p><p>But if he makes even <em> one </em>wrong move today, Rey knows she'll be kicking him out forever. </p><p> </p><p>So maybe...not...today.</p><p> </p><p>“How about Ben comes over...this weekend?” Rey tries with reluctancy, attempting to reason with Amelia. “And you can watch TV together while <em> Maman </em>makes lunch?”</p><p> </p><p>She hears him let out a shuddering breath, one he must have been holding in.</p><p> </p><p>And with as much bravery she can muster, Rey looks up and into Ben’s astonished expression. </p><p> </p><p>His eyes keep tracing the outlines of her features, like he’s trying to figure out if she’s just saying this to keep Amelia calm.</p><p> </p><p>“If you <em> both </em>can be good, of course.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben smiles, like a curse has been lifted. </p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes I can do that. And I’m sure Amelia can too.” He looks back down to her, grin turning goofy. “Right?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods back. “Yea! I’ll be very good!”</p><p> </p><p>Someone suddenly honks a horn in the downstairs, dully reminding them that Ben is not, in fact, parked legally. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, shi-<em> shoot </em>, I uh- it looks like I need to get going.” The smile still remains, like its been permanently sculpted into his jaw. “I’ll see you- ?”</p><p> </p><p>“Saturday. If you can.”</p><p> </p><p>“Saturday,” he repeats. “I can do that. Definitely.”</p><p> </p><p>The horn blares loudly again. </p><p> </p><p>But Ben still crunches down on his knees anyways, slowly, and before Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“Bye, Amelia. Don’t stress out your mother too much.”</p><p> </p><p>She giggles, probably half-understanding what he’s actually saying. </p><p> </p><p>Ben rises back to his full height, and her neck cranes to look up at him.</p><p> </p><p>“Bye, Rey,” he whispers this time, “and...thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>He turns on his heel and dashes towards his illegally parked car before Rey can choke back a response. </p><p> </p><p>As if she could’ve <em> spoken </em> in the first place.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Is that...is that hope on the horizon? <br/>In <i>my</i> fic?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0053"><h2>53. April 12th, 2003</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey sighs and doodles another heart with her blue ballpoint pen. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her science binder is positively </span>
  <em>
    <span>covered </span>
  </em>
  <span>now. And it’s perhaps the girliest thing about her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s pink (shockingly), one and half inches wide, with papers wedged into both file holders <em>and</em> crammed into the three-hole-punch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Science class drowns out to the background. Her teacher is telling them all about membranes and mitochondria and other stuff Rey doesn’t really care about. But she’s passing. So that’s something. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey is a good artist. She </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes </span>
  </em>
  <span>her drawing and illustrations classes. Even pottery is enjoyable. It’s clear as she got older, Rey was definitely a right-brain person. Very unlike her parents. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her sketches are pretty good. Fantastic, even. The one of her wearing a biker-slasher-wedding dress drawn on the back of her plastic binder is </span>
  <em>
    <span>gnarly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because there is no way Rey is getting married in a plain, </span>
  <em>
    <span>white </span>
  </em>
  <span>dress.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ew. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only preppy girls wear </span>
  <em>
    <span>those. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No. Rey will be wearing leather pants and a half skirt of red and black tulle. A black leather jacket with...</span>
  <em>
    <span>skulls, </span>
  </em>
  <span>too. Heck yea. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Skulls. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But at the same time, maybe pink would look nice...like a soft cloud of cotton candy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not sure which direction to keep going with the outfit, so Rey just returns to her over-decorative hearts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>And in the center of each and every heart littered across the fraying plastic, big or small, complex or simple, there’s something written. Just </span><em><span>one </span></em><span>childish, ridiculous and hopeful little</span> <span>thing that she’s come to repeat like a prayer to herself:</span></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Mrs. Rey Solo</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>♡ ♡ ♡</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0054"><h2>54. November 23rd, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>They're...getting there. More or less.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“You’re early.”</p><p> </p><p>Actually, Ben was neither early nor late because Rey never gave him a time to come over. Just a day. </p><p> </p><p>“Should I come back-?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” she shouts a bit too loudly. There’s a towel dangling from her shoulder and an apron, a purple one, tied around her waist. </p><p> </p><p>“Um. Alright.” Ben shivers a little. “Can I come in then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Yes. Sorry. Take off your shoes this time, please.”</p><p> </p><p>He’s greeted by the warmth of Rey’s tiny apartment, the scent of food flooding the hallway. It smells like-</p><p> </p><p>“Bacon?” he asks, genuinely curious. </p><p> </p><p>Rey continues to walk back to the kitchen even as Ben stops to toe off his shoes. It’s only ten. They must be having breakfast. </p><p> </p><p>“Yea,” she calls from the other room, “it’s for breakfast and lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>He follows, shrugging off his jacket and attempting not to be the most awkward human to ever walk this earth. But Rey isn’t helping either. Her spine is stick-straight. She doesn’t look him in the eyes. He can tell her neck is tensed by the single vein prominent near her hairline. </p><p> </p><p>It’s all still a bit uncomfortable. But expected. </p><p> </p><p>Ben’s lucky as <em> hell </em>that she even invited him back into her home. Leia didn’t even believe him when he’d rushed home and exclaimed. </p><p> </p><p>Who knew listening to children’s TV show theme songs on repeat for five hours, for four days in a row, would pay off?</p><p> </p><p>Actually, Ben <em> did </em>kind of know. But it was mostly for Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>No, it was <em> totally </em>for Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s for lunch, then?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey flips a few pieces of meat over with a fork. “Roasted brussels sprouts.”</p><p> </p><p>Interesting choice. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia likes brussels sprouts?” Ben thought children were <em> extremely </em>picky eaters. </p><p> </p><p>She shrugs. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia eats anything I put in front of her.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, wow.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s very...unusual for a kid, Ben guesses. </p><p> </p><p>But she’s not the <em> most </em> normal kid on this earth either.</p><p> </p><p>That’s what makes Amelia, Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow?” Rey responds, quirking a brow at him. </p><p> </p><p>“Yea, she, uh-” Ben tries to form words to make sure he’s not insulting his own daughter. “I’m impressed, really. That she’s a good eater. That’s...rare. Right?”</p><p> </p><p>Her face is still at a standstill when he huffs out his answer until her eyes return to the pan. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia!” She screams, almost at the top of her lungs. “<em>Ben est içi!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>The TV must be going in the other room. Because Rey has to scream again. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Amelia! </em>He's her-”</p><p> </p><p>Little footsteps sound and they’re growing closer and closer, until they morph into thudding, and then Amelia is suddenly in the kitchen, a grin adorning her rosy cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>AHHHH!!! </em>” she screeches, like a wild animal. </p><p> </p><p>She runs toward Ben, who’s still standing by the dining table, but then she’s suddenly inclining her chin to her chest and tucking her elbows in and <em> wait- </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Oof!”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>He crumples forward as Amelia's head rams <em> straight </em>into the family jewels. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh my God-!” Rey shouts, watching as his knees collapse to the floor. “A-AMELIA!”</p><p> </p><p>His face feels red and hot, but it’s nothing compared to the searing pain Ben is currently experiencing between his legs. </p><p> </p><p>The world blurs around him. Blood is pumping, and not in the right places. </p><p> </p><p>Through the haze of pain, he watches Rey pull something from the freezer and wrap it in the towel that was hanging off her shoulder. </p><p> </p><p>“Here,” she mutters, helping him off the floor. “Sit d-down, oh my God, Ben, I’m <em> so </em> sorry, I-I didn’t think s-she’d do... <em> that.” </em></p><p> </p><p>He waves a weak hand and presses the frozen bag of whatever onto his crotch. Jesus, the last time Ben got a good whack to balls was years ago, probably in college, and he was <em> wholly </em> unprepared.  </p><p> </p><p>“I-It’s-” he coughs and it hurts. “It’s o-okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben looks up with a sympathetic expression. Rey only grows angrier. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Amelia Charlotte, get your butt back here!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>He notices just now that the little girl must have fled once her mother yelled at her. From the corner of the doorway she creeps back, a thumb in her mouth and timid beyond belief. </p><p> </p><p>“Apologize to Ben. Right <em> now.” </em></p><p> </p><p>She stands in front of Rey, head down in shame. But she makes no move. </p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Dire pardon au grandes oreilles.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia looks back up to her, then over to Ben, understanding the French this time. Then, she tip-toes over and removes the thumb for her mouth. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Désolé,” </em> her soft voice mumbles. She must be saying <em> sorry </em>. </p><p> </p><p>Ben attempts to rise a bit and smile but the chairs are made from wood and they are <em> hard.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Ah- it’s okay. You just wanted to play, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Her big, misty brown eyes meet his. They look <em> so </em>much like Rey’s.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>O-oui.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Shit, and now he’s going to make her <em> cry- </em></p><p> </p><p>“How about we go watch TV together?” he attempts. “I’ll be much more comfortable on the couch, I think.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia must understand most, if not all, of what Ben says, because she’s looking over her shoulder and grabbing his hand at the same time. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, <em> Maman? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s breathing hard. Probably panicking, knowing her, but she nods anyways. </p><p> </p><p>“Sure. Just- Be careful.” She goes over to help heft Ben out of the chair and he winces. “<em>Please, </em>Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Okay!” </em> she shouts, bad mood dissolved. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia tugs weakly on his hand as Rey helps him semi-limp to the living room. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m fine, Rey, really,” he reassures when she helps set him down. But the concerned look never leaves her face.</p><p> </p><p>“You sure as hell don’t <em> look </em>fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben relaxes into the cushions as Amelia takes the spot right next to him, eyes already re-glued to the screen. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not like Amelia wanted siblings anyways, right?”</p><p> </p><p>The words leave his stupid <em>fucking</em> mouth before his <em>stupid </em> <em> fucking </em> <em>brain</em> registers them. </p><p> </p><p>Rey’s face falls oddly and sharply, her chest performing only one, small heave before she’s trying to blink away something within her eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Don’t- ” </em> she whispers, voice shaky and terrified. “<em>Please don’t say things like that, Ben </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>He tries to scramble for a response, to say anything to help whatever the <em> fuck </em>just happened, but Amelia is suddenly grabbing his shirt sleeve and trying to get his attention. </p><p> </p><p>“Cookie munster!” She points to the screen, the big, blue puppet happily munching at cardboard cookies. </p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh, yea, Cookie Monster-”</p><p> </p><p>His head whips back to Rey’s direction but she’s already made it to the doorway of the kitchen. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey-”</p><p> </p><p>She stops, turning around. </p><p> </p><p>“Just let me cook, alright?”</p><p> </p><p>Her exasperated blush is gone. In its place is stark, pale blankness. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m s-sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>She gives one last look over to Amelia, who's laughing and singing along to the TV.</p><p> </p><p>He can't read her expression. At all.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Rey returns to the stove without another word. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0055"><h2>55. November 23rd, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi again! I am still technically on hiatus from AO3 and Twitter but I just HAD to post this chapter. It was so hard to write and I miss daily postings.</p><p>I am going through some super difficult stuff at work that involves legal problems and the whole nine-yards, so I don't think I'll be posting until at least a few days. </p><p>Enjoy tho! Writing from the POV of a (semi) bilingual child is tough 😭</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They get through three or four Sesame Street episodes until the TV switches to some baby show that Amelia is <em> much </em>too mature for. </p><p> </p><p>There’s at least monsters on Sesame Street. And the Wonderpets deal with very dangerous situations. </p><p> </p><p>This so-called <em> Peppa Pig </em> is boring. And annoying. And her English sounds funny.</p><p> </p><p>She turns on the couch to the large man who’s sitting next to her. Grandes oreilles. </p><p> </p><p>“Want to play?” Amelia asks in English because he is not smart like her and Maman, who can speak <em> two </em>whole languages. </p><p> </p><p>Ben turns to look down at her. His face isn’t red anymore. And he doesn’t <em> look </em>like he’s in pain still. </p><p> </p><p>“What would you like to do?”</p><p> </p><p>His voice is low and crackly. Maybe there’s something wrong with his throat too?</p><p> </p><p>Amelia jumps off the couch and goes over to the laundry basket that Maman stores all her toys in. It’s getting pretty full, since Maman feels bad about them leaving their <em> real </em>home so she let her buy whatever she wanted a couple nights ago. </p><p> </p><p>Everything came in a box larger than Amelia herself and it’s currently being used as a rocket ship.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe the box will become a house next week. Or a jail. She hasn’t decided yet. </p><p> </p><p>Alice is at the top, so she grabs her. But Ben probably doesn’t like dolls very much so she grabs Victor for him to play with instead. </p><p> </p><p>She skips back over and places Victor right next to his knee. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia doesn’t understand why he looks so surprised when he picks up Victor and inspects him. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>He lets out a small laugh, low enough that Amelia hardly hears him. </p><p> </p><p>Grandes oreilles holds Victor; precious, beautiful Victor, up for display. </p><p> </p><p>“This is a sponge with a face sharpied on it,” he says, bluntly.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia pouts. He’s ruining their playtime already and they’ve only just begun. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s a very <em> nice </em> éponge,” she corrects, grabbing him back for safekeeping, “and il est le mari d’Alice <em> . </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Ah. No French. Amelia forgot. </p><p> </p><p>“He is her...the…”</p><p> </p><p>Her face contorts, trying to find the word hidden deep in her brain. </p><p> </p><p>“Victor is the <em> mari!” </em> She stomps, not figuring it out in English. “You know. <em> Mari.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben just shakes his head.  “Uh...no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what that means. Are they friends? I thought that was...um-”</p><p> </p><p>He takes a second, looking for a word too.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ami? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>So Ben <em> does </em>know something. That’s a start. Not as good as Maman though. </p><p> </p><p>“Oui! C’est le mot. But they aren’t friends. They love each other too.”</p><p> </p><p>Recognition seems to hit him. </p><p> </p><p>“Ohhh. You’re trying to say <em> husband. </em>That they’re married?”</p><p> </p><p>Wow. Amelia’s impressed now. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes! Husband! <em> Mari! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He nods, and puts his hand back out for Victor. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry I insulted him. Can I still play?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia thinks for three seconds and decides that <em> sure, </em>just because he’s being a good sport. </p><p> </p><p>“They’re going to le magasin because Alice wants to buy some new shoes.” She trots the Barbie doll along the couch, humming like she would be. “Oh, <em>la!” </em>Amelia exclaims at the make-believe store. “Ceci est exactement ce que je cherchais!”</p><p> </p><p>She looks over her shoulder and notices Ben has not moved Victor yet. </p><p> </p><p>“Please follow me.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben sits up and places the éponge down onto the couch to join Alice. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry. He was running late. Forgot his wallet at home.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia doesn’t know what a <em>wallet </em>is but she continues to play nonetheless, directing Victor to help her shop as Amelia grabs more doll clothes and accessories from her zip-loc bag, lining them up along the edges of the cushion just like a real magasin. </p><p> </p><p>But because Amelia is four and has the attention span of a teaspoon, the shopping becomes very boring, <em> very </em>quickly. </p><p> </p><p>She lets Alice fall onto the couch and looks over to the corner of the room. The laundry basket doesn’t seem too heavy. So she grabs it and brings it over to Ben. </p><p> </p><p>Then, Amelia proceeds to dump <em> all </em>of her toys onto his feet. </p><p> </p><p>“I want to play something else.”</p><p> </p><p>He stares down at the pile. Ben must be super impressed. Just like that old lady, Leia, was when she came and visited for dinner. </p><p> </p><p>“Half of this is just...garbage,” he says, sifting through her toys. “Like-” Ben says, picking up Madame Terry, “Is this an empty water bottle? With another face drawn on it?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia snatches her plaything from his big, meaty hand. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Garçons. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Ugh.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Madame Terry </em> is not garbage. She is a <em> chanteuse.”  </em></p><p> </p><p>Of course grandes oreilles doesn’t understand <em> that </em>either. Not surprising at all. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me show you,” Amelia says, going to stand in front of the still-playing TV as she prepares for her and Madame Terry’s concert. </p><p> </p><p>She clears her throat, expectant.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>WE WILL,</em>” Amelia chants, maybe a bit too loudly, “<em>WE WILL, ROCK YOU! </em>” </p><p> </p><p>And for the claps that sound through her song, Amelia slams Madame Terry rhythmically against her other hand, the plastic making the <em> perfect </em>crunching sound just like how she performs for Maman. </p><p> </p><p>“BUDDY YOU BOY-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clap-clap-crunch! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“MAN MAN MAN!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clap-clap-crunch! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“SHOUTING IN STREETS, WORLD DAY!”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Clap-clap-crunch! </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia is<em> trying </em> to get better at learning the actual words to all the songs she knows but she must be close enough anyways. Ben loves her singing too, since he sang with her in the car the other day. </p><p> </p><p>Grandes oreilles is covering his mouth and nose the entire time of her song, his back shaking. He lets her sing with absolute freedom until Maman comes storming back into the living room. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia! No more Queen, mon chou, <em> please-!” </em></p><p> </p><p>She stops at the sound of Maman yelling over her concert. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Mais je jouais!” </em> Amelia whines back. She can’t stop <em> now </em>. He's about to hear her get to the best and loudest part. </p><p> </p><p>In the quick silence, Ben lets out a sudden huge, hearty laugh; one that looks like he’s been trying to hold back. It makes Maman’s eyes widen. </p><p> </p><p>“That was quite literally the <em> last </em> thing I expected her to do,” he says, in between wheezes. “But <em> I </em>was personally enjoying the concert.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Ha. </em> Amelia knew it. She’s just a <em> génie </em> like that. </p><p> </p><p>But before she can continue, Maman’s phone suddenly rings and she yanks it out of her back pocket, answering it before anyone says anything else.<br/><br/></p><p>“Yes? This is she. H-hello, yes.”</p><p> </p><p>No one speaks a single word. Amelia doesn’t ever know who calls Maman anymore. But there were a lot of calls when they moved here where she just cried the entire time and didn’t say a whole lot.</p><p> </p><p>“That would be great! Um. Yes, Monday at one is great. T-thank you, Mr. Faulkner.”</p><p> </p><p>Maman ends her call and looks up to them, a smile on her face. </p><p> </p><p>“I have a job interview.”</p><p> </p><p>Grandes oreilles stands up, facing Maman.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s great!”</p><p> </p><p>She clutches the phone in her hands, Maman’s face suddenly pinking, while she smiles at Ben.</p><p> </p><p>But no one is currently paying attention to the single most important thing in this room right now:</p><p> </p><p>Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“Maman!” She says, skipping over to her, “What does that mean? Tu pars?”</p><p> </p><p>Maman wraps Amelia in a small hug. “It means that we can move to a bigger place if it goes well. Don’t you want a house again?”</p><p> </p><p>What Amelia <em> wants </em> is <em> their </em> house back in Vézelay, but at this point, she’ll take anything that has trees and grass.</p><p> </p><p>“Though I can’t really bring <em> you </em>along to the interview, mon chou…”</p><p> </p><p>Her face twists in thought, like when Maman is trying to read a new recipe or figure out how to put together their new beds. She blinks towards the floor, humming.</p><p> </p><p>“What if Leia babysat?” Grandes oreilles pipes in.</p><p> </p><p>They both look up towards the large man.</p><p> </p><p>“Really? Do you think she’d be okay with that? I don’t know if i could get a sitter in time…”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs, taking small steps side-to-side. “Why not? She’s Amelia’s gran-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ben. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Maman’s voice drops suddenly, very serious. It’s the same tone she used when Amelia tried to flush a washcloth down the toilet once.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Sorry. I didn’t...” Ben blinks and clears his throat. “But Leia <em> is </em>good with kids. And I’m sure Amelia would have a great time.”</p><p> </p><p>Maman seems to ponder the suggestion. Amelia and Maman have <em> never </em>been separated before. And the thought scares her a little. </p><p> </p><p>But if it means a yard and grass for playtime…</p><p> </p><p>“Maman! I want a house!” </p><p> </p><p>She looks back down and brings back her smile, the one that makes Amelia feel better instantly, always. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Si ça te va, Amelia?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oui!” she responds, jumping up and down, arms still looped around her mother's hips. “I’ll show Leia <em> all </em>my toys this time! Mes jouets, Maman!”</p><p><br/><br/>Leia is <em>much</em> more appreciative of Madame Terry than Grandes oreilles.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0056"><h2>56. November 25th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Back to our regularly scheduled crying sessi-</p><p>-<i>Chapter updates</i>. Silly me.</p><p>(ALSO WE HIT OVER 10K HITS WHAATT. Thank you all so so much! AND I'M SORRY I'M SO BEHIND ON COMMENTS, I'M READING THEM ALL!)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The high school looks mostly the same as it did ten years ago, save for the new high-tech sign installed in front of the main auditorium. It flashes the news of <em> Upcoming Winter Break! </em> and <em> Seniors! Sign Up For Grad Night Now! </em> </p><p> </p><p>Leia’s car is roomy. Rey can stretch her legs out at full span, letting the slight nerves of her upcoming interview stretch out with them. </p><p> </p><p>School must still be going. There's still hundreds of cars parked in all the lots, mostly banged-up, cheap teenager cars, and trash from lunch scattered on the sidewalks leading to the entrance.</p><p> </p><p>“The big garage door, right?” Leia asks. </p><p> </p><p>Rey knows she didn’t spend too much time here when Ben attended. He preferred the bus back then until Han bought him the mustang. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Rey responds, pointing over to the small parking lot surrounding the theater’s perimeter. “The back entrance is the small door on the other side.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods and steers towards the theater. It's strange being dropped off at the high school by <em> Leia </em> at this age and this point in time, seeing as Rey’s own four year old is sitting just behind her, humming and flipping aimlessly through one of Ben’s old books. </p><p> </p><p>Rey grips her printed resume a little harder.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll do fine,” Leia coos, rubbing a hand on her shoulder. “To me, I think you're ridiculously <em> overqualified </em>to be teaching just painting or whatnot.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shakes her head slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not necessarily nervous about the interview, Leia…”</p><p> </p><p>She tilts her chin towards the backseat, motioning to the third passenger. The thought of leaving Amelia alone for so long is scaring the absolute <em> shit </em> out of her. They all talked and discussed everything that Leia would need to know. Amelia is excited for the playdate. <em> Maman </em>wants a job so she can buy them a house.</p><p> </p><p>Theoretically, everything is perfect. </p><p> </p><p>“She’ll be fine.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia’s eyes are soft and understanding, even though her and Ben spent days and sometimes <em> weeks </em> separated when he was a child. So the emotion isn’t <em>quite</em> at the same level of sympathy.</p><p> </p><p>“But what if you can’t understand a critical word? O-Or Amelia tries to eat something when you’re not looking, or she-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Rey.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leia grips her shoulder instead, stopping the soothing circles.</p><p> </p><p>“This isn't my first rodeo with a four-year-old.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> know, </em>but she’s just so unlike Ben...”</p><p> </p><p>Rey trails off mid-sentence, catching a glance at Amelia in the rear view mirror. </p><p> </p><p>She’s trying to iron the wrinkles out from the cover of the paperback book with her tiny fingers, face scrunched in concentration and eyebrows drawn just like her father always does when attempting a task he’s much too daft to do. </p><p> </p><p>Rey just sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“Okay. So she’ll be fine. But please, just text me about anything. I’ll have my phone on silent but I’ll be checking as much as I can.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia smiles at her and to Amelia as well.</p><p> </p><p>“She calls him that funny name right? Grand <em> or-ye </em>, or however you say it.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Grandes oreilles,” </em>Rey corrects, opening the door. “It means ‘big ears’.”</p><p> </p><p>The old woman can’t help but chuckle. </p><p> </p><p>Yanking open the passenger door, Amelia looks up and giggles as her mother places a quick kiss to the top of her head. </p><p> </p><p>“Wish me luck, <em> mon amour. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Bye <em> Maman</em><em>!</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia appears to be <em> much </em> more enthusiastic to part than she thought previously. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’ll </em> wish you luck,” Leia calls over her shoulder. “And now that the lousy giant is back at work, Amelia and I will have the entire house to ourselves. Isn’t that right, Amelia?”</p><p> </p><p>The little girl is not keeping up at all. But squeals nonetheless. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oui! </em>We’re gonna play!”</p><p> </p><p>Rey gives her one final kiss and laughs, shutting the door. She waves off Leia’s silver car, her eyes trailing it’s movement back up the parking lot and onto the main street.</p><p> </p><p>She already feels...empty.</p><p> </p><p>But there’s no time for that. </p><p> </p><p>Rey knocks on the side door, perfectly on time. There’s chatter happening in the theater, loud enough that she can make out some words. A class must be going.</p><p> </p><p>The metal door swings in, Mr. Faulkner, now a decade older, standing in front of her.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey!”</p><p> </p><p>He greets her with a hug that she happily receives. The short, bald man was her teacher and mentor back in the day, and is most likely the reason Rey ever got any sort of job as a set designer in Paris. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s so wonderful to see you too, Mr. Faulkner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” He snorts back. “You can call me Aaron now. We’re both real-life adults. And <em>hopefully</em> soon to be colleagues.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey laughs softly. She never understood how this man had six children, a wife who <em> also </em> worked and a teaching job in a high school, was still <em> cheery </em>. And time has not worn down Mr. Faulkner in the slightest.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Okay. Thank you...Aaron.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles back at her, nose wrinkling. “Follow me to the office. We have a script writing class going now that Ms. Adams teaches, and my classes are done for the day.”</p><p> </p><p>They stroll through the dusty and paint-dripped shop, a circle of students onstage with chairs and music stands. Just like old times, no one bothers to use the actual classroom that’s also technically the green room.</p><p> </p><p>“What show are you putting on this spring?” she asks when they enter the hallway leading to his office.</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Faulkner sighs, looking over his shoulder, and puts a hand to his khaki hip.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re going to kill me…” he utters.</p><p> </p><p>Rey gasps.</p><p> </p><p>“No way!” She all but shouts. “You’re letting them do <em> Phantom?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He barks out a laugh as they enter the office, ushering Rey to one of the chairs.</p><p> </p><p>She isn’t angry. More jealous, than anything. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” Mr. Faulkner explains, sitting across from her, “our budget has grown exponentially since you graduated and we have enough kids in both the performing classes and technical. Football wanted a big chunk of the cash we got, but our sponsor a few years back insisted we use it for the arts.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah, well. That’s so great to hear.” Her anger dissipates, happy <em> for </em>the students who get to perform and create the one show she dreamed about designing for. “I can’t help but be a bit envious.”</p><p> </p><p>He shuffles a few papers into a dizzy pile. Just like back then, Mr. Faulkner’s office is a chaotic, yet organized mess. </p><p> </p><p>“I knew you would. But maybe you’ll be helping us out with those set pieces this season,” he says with a grin. “Which means I should probably start <em> actually</em> conducting this interview!”</p><p> </p><p>Rey can’t remember the last time she was sat and asked questions about her professional experience and skills. It’s been seven years since she was hired by Coruscant Print, four since she worked a real job. </p><p> </p><p>Mr. Faulkner asks simple enough questions. Just the basics, seeing as a job like this is simple in itself.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Do you know how to use a CAD? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Are you an expert in color theory? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yes.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> What is your experience with set builds? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I can do 3D scales and flat designs.</p><p> </p><p>Every question is easy for Rey. She really <em> is </em> overqualified for the job, but the pay is good enough and being back to her old theater, her home, gives Rey a serotonin boost she didn’t know she craved.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a real smile on her face when she shakes Mr. Faulkner’s hand. He tells her he’s impressed with how far she’s come and the skills she’s acquired from France.</p><p> </p><p>By the time they’re both leaving the theater and Rey’s sent a quick text to Leia, she’s feeling incredible. The interview only lasted an hour. It’s an <em> okay </em>amount of time to be separated from Amelia. Not too long, not too short. </p><p> </p><p>Her grin must be dopey by this point, because Rey even cracks a few jokes with her previous theater director, their laughs echoing through the large garage and paint shop. </p><p> </p><p><em> I’ll probably have to wait for Leia, </em> Rey realizes before they're about to step foot outdoors, the November air merciless and frigid. She only texted her ten or so minutes ago, and Rey <em> knows </em>how difficult it can be to migrate Amelia to her car seat. </p><p> </p><p>But Leia is probably close anyways. </p><p> </p><p>She yanks on the door’s handle, searching for Leia’s Acura. </p><p> </p><p>But they do not find Leia's Acura.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Huh</em>,” Mr. Faulkner suddenly breathes out, eyes and finger pointing across the lot. “That guy over there looks <em> just </em>like this kid I had in Geometry when I taught it, like- fifteen years ago. What was his name? I think- Ben Solo? Benjamin?"</p><p> </p><p>Her breathing slows almost to a stop.</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s line of vision follows Mr. Faulkner’s finger.  </p><p> </p><p>Surprise, surprise, there's Ben in flesh and blood, leaning against the driver’s door of his black car, phone in hand, and leg propped on the front tire. He’s still in his work clothes. And he hasn’t noticed them come out yet. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh. Yea. That would- that’s him.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wonder what he’s doing here,” Mr. Faulkner asks. “I did’t think he’s old enough to have a kid attending high school yet…”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben is-” Rey interrupts hoarsely. It feels like she’s swallowing sand. “Ben, I guess, is my ride home today. My <em> very </em>unplanned ride home.”</p><p> </p><p>She turns, locking eyes with her old teacher, eyebrows awkwardly raised. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oh!” </em> He exclaims. <em> “ </em>My apologies, Rey! I didn’t know you two were-”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re not, believe me," Rey huffs. “He’s just the father of my child."</p><p> </p><p>Poor Mr. Faulkner is obviously just trying to play catch-up at this point, confused beyond belief and trying not to step over any lines. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, uh- Wow! That’s a...coincidence, I think. Are you two, um, <em> divorced? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Ben <em> finally </em>looks up off his phone and catches Rey’s peeved look, her arms crossed and eyes narrowed straight at him. </p><p> </p><p>“No.” Rey corrects, her voice remaining low and monotonous. “We drunkenly slept together and I hid his daughter from him in the countryside of France up until a month ago.” </p><p> </p><p>Ben was about to wave but Rey squints at him just a <em> tad </em>harder.</p><p> </p><p>And Mr. Faulkner doesn’t respond at <em> all. </em>She turns back towards him to see his jaw fixed open and eyes blown. </p><p> </p><p>Whatever. So what if their situation is a little...non-traditional. </p><p> </p><p>“So, can I send you my full portfolio?” Rey asks, breaking the stupor and desperately wanting the subject changed. The smile is back but it’s clearly forced. “Or is there another candidate for the position?”</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Faulkner chokes but then collects himself immediately.</p><p> </p><p>“No, no, please do. You passed with flying colors today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Great. I’ll talk to you soon then?”</p><p> </p><p>He nods, eyes flashing to her and then back over to Ben.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey?”</p><p> </p><p>She stops mid-turn.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em>everything’s okay?”</p><p> </p><p>She’s three seconds away from turning on her heel and marching over to Ben to…Well, Rey hasn’t decided <em> yet </em> what she’ll be doing with him. Maybe a nice jab to the stomach? Or a pinch to his large ear? Or she could copy Amelia’s earlier tactic and send a roundhouse <em> straight </em> to his gonads. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s not,” she whispers down to the ground.”But when is anything ever fine?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey gives Mr. Faulkner one last look.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But will it ever be fine? </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0057"><h2>57. October 4th, 1997</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have been without a laptop since Tuesday lol. So I wrote most of this on my PHONE. So sorry if there's any mistakes!</p><p>And thank you to @BonnieSwims for sending me the amazing DM that inspired this chapter! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>They decide that maybe it's a little <em>too </em>cold and rainy to play outside today.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey's been in the Solo-Organa's house enough times now to know where all five bathrooms are located and how to unlock their fancy back door lock, but she's still getting used to playing with Ben in his room, which is <em>much </em>cooler than her own.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A knock sounds from Ben’s bedroom door, which was closed when they collectively decided to play hot wheels this afternoon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Leia’s claims they are much too noisy when playing hot wheels, thus the door being the quick solution for muting the loud, revving noises.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey is currently sorting </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>cars by color so they form a nice rainbow, while Ben sets up his mega-super</span>
  <em>
    <span>-radical-blah-blah</span>
  </em>
  <span> track.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But much to both of their surprises, Ben’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dad </span>
  </em>
  <span>cracks the door open. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey kiddos,” he greets them with a gruff. “Your Mom told me you wanted to go out for a snack.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey's eyebrows are nearly to her hairline, and when she turns to catch Ben’s expression, he’s mirroring her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s never met the man before. But her parents have. And Ben has said lots of nice things about him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>...and many, </span><em><span>many </span></em><span>more not</span> <span>nice things.</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhh. Sure.” Ben swallows, then meets Rey’s eyes. She doesn’t really understand what’s going on. Or what he’s trying to tell her just by blinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s Dad must suddenly remember that they’ve never actually met and marches further into Ben’s room, holding a large hand out to Rey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey there. I’m Han.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes it, confused and hesitant, but shakes it politely nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span> “I’ve been out of town a bit but I’ve heard lots about you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Lots…?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m Rey,” she responds quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben looks a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>like Han.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But she’s still not quite sure what to think of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we go to Baskin-Robbins?” Ben asks, setting down the section of racetrack he was building to the carpet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Han looks back over to him and smiles, then nods towards Rey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does the youngin want ice cream too?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods until it feels like Rey’s head is going to pop off her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes, yes, please!” She exclaims. “We can really go to Baskin-Robbins?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben is already beginning to stand up and Rey follows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He’ll take us. My dad will take us wherever we want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing that Ben basically has total and </span>
  <em>
    <span>complete</span>
  </em>
  <span> freedom to go anywhere with his Dad suddenly creates a wave of jealousy within Rey. Mommy or Daddy won’t do that for her. Maybe for her birthday. Or after the last day of school, but not just-</span>
  <em>
    <span>randomly. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But once the wave floods and drowns her in envy, Rey looks back over to Ben’s expression. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His eyes are lifeless. Ben’s just staring at Han’s sleeve rather than his face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The wave crashes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s still in this weird, sullen mood once they arrive, beside Rey’s incoherent and excited squealing during the entire car ride, but does perk up a little when the ice cream lady hands him his double scoop mint chocolate chip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey smiles at him, waiting for her cone, watching Ben take the first bite and smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really like that?” She asks with a giggle. “It tastes like toothpaste.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He actually chuckles at her disgusted expression and takes another bite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I like toothpaste, if you must know. This way, I don’t go home and eat the tube in my bathroom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>howls, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the image of Ben scarfing down real, actual-life toothpaste making her sides hurt from laughter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s not <em>that</em> funny,” he snickers back, “You always laugh at the dumbest things I say, Rey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her laugh turns to a scoff, her arms crossing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben knows better than to <em>insult her.</em> </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey leans in close, out of earshot from Han, her words quiet and sharp, like a knife. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Suck my butt, stupid.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben gags on his bite of ice cream, face turning red either from shock or laughter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mommy said if Rey ever said that sentence ever again, she wasn’t getting another toy until her tenth birthday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>But Mommy isn't here right now, is she?</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Where-?” Ben chokes out. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Where </span>
  </em>
  <span>did you learn </span>
  <em>
    <span>that?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t know.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey learned it from a TV show that she is absolutely <em>not </em>allowed to watch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben groans but still continues to laugh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey blinks and then her cone of rocky road is in front of her nose, Han holding it safely in a napkin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t eat it all too fast. You’ll get a brain-freeze.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She takes it with a smile and </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>watching from the corner of her eye as Ben leaves and goes to the opposite end of the store, sitting at a vacant table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without thinking twice, Rey skips over and joins him, dropping onto the metal chair next to his hunched form. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come you got a double scoop and I got a single?” she pouts, eyeing just <em>how </em>much ice cream he was allowed to get.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben takes a bigger bite. “Because I’m double your size.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fair argument, Rey supposes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She looks back to the counter, where Han quietly watches them chat, feet shuffling oddly like he wants to move towards them but also does not. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wanna sit with us?” </span>
  <span>Rey calls over to the older man, who then immediately looks over to Ben like he’s asking for...permission? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t know everything that happens between Ben and his Dad. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Rey is beginning to suspect almost </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it is not good. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben must be feeling generous today though, because Han walks over and pulls a third chair up, the metal scraping the tile floor, and sits down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, he takes a </span>
  <em>
    <span>huge </span>
  </em>
  <span>bite from his scoop of strawberry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Whoa!”  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey gasps. Not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>Daddy can take a bite so large. And of something so </span>
  <em>
    <span>cold. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Even Ben has stopped eating and looks over, impressed too. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>It’s mufing-</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Han tries to say, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>kinna cold-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s so amazing and inspiring that Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>must </span>
  </em>
  <span>attempt it as well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She follows whatever Ben does anyways. And Han is technically just...grown-up Ben, right?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey eyes a good spot, then unhinges her jaw, chomping down on as much rocky road as she can.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Han and Ben both watch her do it, visibly concerned. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s gonna be too much,” Han says, after swallowing </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>mega-bite. “Do you need a napki-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>COLD</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like the freezing temperature suddenly hits the roof of her mouth and Rey’s teeth, because she suddenly cannot stand her bite, and it hurts, and her </span>
  <em>
    <span>head-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>COLD COLD COLD COLD</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Rey spits the half-melted bite of chocolate ice cream-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>...directly on Han’s shirt and face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He blinks the dripping liquid off his eyelashes, shocked but slightly laughing. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Ben?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, Ben is losing it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>He laughs as the still-frozen hunk melts slowly on the table. He laughs when Han has to wipe the mocha cream of of his grey, and now <em>very</em> stained, shirt. He laughs when Rey tries to lick the remainder off her chin with no success.</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s actually laughing so hard that Rey fears he will fall off his chair and his scoops will topple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that fear is promptly squashed just by listening to Ben's voice, so free and light, in perfect harmony with his Dad’s giggles. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0058"><h2>58. November 25th, 2019 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Valentine's Day, my loves!❤️❤️❤️</p><p>Sorry in advance lol❤️</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Since Ben is a man of etiquette, or rather a man <em> learning </em>of etiquette in many newfound ways, he ensures that upon Rey’s angry arrival at the Aston Martin, the door is swung out to her and a hand is placed to help her in.</p><p> </p><p>She just scoffs at his hand and knees into the passenger seat, checking the back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alright then. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Where’s Amelia?” Rey asks sharply, standing back up.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s with my mom. How did the interview go?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s apparently <em> not </em>the response she was looking for, and Rey all but ignores his inquiry and instead pulls out her phone and begins pressing the screen. “I’m calling Leia.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, no-!”</p><p> </p><p>He moves the phone away from her face and notices its already ringing. </p><p> </p><p>“S-She gave me permission to come pick you up,” Ben tries to reason.</p><p> </p><p>Rey gives him one more look over, rolls her eyes and then hangs up.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Permission? </em> What am I? Twelve?”</p><p> </p><p>Well, considering the fact that Rey is being taxied around by his mother and picked up at a literal <em> school </em> , Ben’s typical, snarky response would be <em> yes.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Instead, he takes a breath.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Gentleman. Be a gentleman. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Okay so ‘<em>permission’ </em>was the wrong word. You’re not a child, Rey.”</p><p> </p><p>Her arms cross, then uncross, phone still in hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m here because I’m taking you out to lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>Her gaze instantly ducks down to the ground. It takes a second for Ben to realize the connotation of what he’s saying. </p><p> </p><p>Like it always seems to do.</p><p> </p><p>“Not as a- it’s <em> just </em> lunch, I swear. Not a d-date or anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes don’t leave the ground. The blush that he could see barely starting dies back down, and her shoulders tense.</p><p> </p><p>There’s no way Rey would want to go on a date with <em> Ben.  </em></p><p> </p><p>She’s just probably...mad. Mad that he's here and<em> not </em> with her daughter- <em>their </em>daughter. </p><p> </p><p>He assumes.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going anywhere,” Rey grits. “Take me back to Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>He sighs to her response, not at all surprised. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey. We need to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>She laughs an ugly, breathless laugh.</p><p> </p><p>“No <em> shit </em>we need to talk. But not right now."</p><p> </p><p>“So when?” </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes snap back up to his. “I was already nervous about leaving her for one hour, Ben. I can’t just go out and eat. That’s irresponsible.”</p><p> </p><p>While Rey <em> does </em> have a point, according to Leia, it is 100% healthy and normal for a mother to be separated from her four year old daughter for longer than one hour. Actually, it's <em>quite</em> normal.</p><p> </p><p>“No,” Ben bites back, still trying to keep his voice calm. “Not addressing<em> this </em> is irresponsible.”</p><p> </p><p>He must hit a specific chord because Rey uncrosses her arms, opening and closing her mouth like a fish attempting to breathe on land and responds with silence.</p><p> </p><p>Rey nods in defeat and climbs into the passenger seat, grabbing the door forcefully from Ben’s hand, and slams it shut. </p><p> </p><p>That could have gone...a lot worse.</p><p> </p><p>Better, too.</p><p> </p><p>But much, <em> much </em>worse.</p><p> </p><p>Ben turns on the radio, attempting to soften the prickly atmosphere, but otherwise doesn’t say anything. Neither does Rey. He does notice, though, that she keeps eyeing his suit. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re not going anywhere nice, are we?” </p><p> </p><p>Her voice is small. Like she is. </p><p> </p><p>He glances over to Rey’s outfit: a white button down and sleek, blue trousers. While the outfit is perfect for an interview, and hugs her chest and hips <em>perfectl-</em></p><p> </p><p>Ben stops <em>that </em>train of thought the second it attempts to leave the station.</p><p> </p><p>He focuses back to her question instead. She doesn’t <em> quite </em> match the level of his three-thousand dollar suit and there <em>is</em> legitimacy to her concern.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll see.”</p><p> </p><p>She scoffs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m already pissed off enough, Ben. And I don’t want any more surprises.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s not even ten seconds later when he’s turning the car into the strip mall’s parking lot, only a few miles from the school, and parks in front of the restaurant.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes blow wide in surprise when she looks up and out through the windshield. </p><p> </p><p><em> “San Juan’s </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep,” Ben confirms, opening his door and turning back to Rey. “Is there a problem with that?”</p><p> </p><p>“N-No.”</p><p> </p><p>He tries to round to the other side of the car to open her door, but Rey is too quick and is already slamming it shut by the time he’s hit the headlight. </p><p> </p><p>Rey even walks ahead of him, requesting a table quickly, following the hostess quickly and even sitting and burying her face in the menu quickly.</p><p> </p><p>Looks like she just wants this lunch over and done with. </p><p> </p><p>She keeps the plastic menu covering her face for a few minutes, not saying a word. Ben pretends to be studying it as well, but has no real notion to eat nor appetite. </p><p> </p><p>Her eyes do keep peeking over at him and Ben acts like he doesn’t notice.</p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t you supposed to be at work right now?” she asks after the prolonged period of strange silence. </p><p> </p><p>Ben looks up, his bangs partially tangled in his eyelashes. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh…”</p><p> </p><p>Her brow is raised, expectant of an answer, which Ben <em> definitely </em>has. But not one he can tell her. </p><p> </p><p>At least not today.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m taking a long lunch today. I’ll be going back at four.”</p><p> </p><p>For a minute, he’s afraid Rey’s not going to buy it but then she’s shrugging and goes back to the menu. She also checks her phone a few times, most likely texting his mother and asking about Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>The waiter comes and brings water, chips and salsa. </p><p> </p><p>Ben’s is frankly starving, besides trying to deny his own appetite, and goes to grab the entire basket of chips and dish of salsa, but Rey lets the menu fall with a <em> clunk </em>and two of her fingers are suddenly grabbing the basket, her hand wrapped around the dish as well.</p><p> </p><p>They both look up at the same time, except Rey is sneering. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t be a <em> hog </em>, Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>She tries to pry them both away, becoming the very hog she was accusing <em> him </em>of, but Ben keeps his grip, arms remaining planted on the table’s surface.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m hungry,” he argues.</p><p> </p><p>“So am I,” she responds back.</p><p> </p><p>They tug a bit harder, both of them, until a bit of salsa is sloshing onto the table and onto her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh!” Rey exclaims, letting go and immediately wiping the bits of pepper and tomato off her hand.</p><p> </p><p>An idea pops into Ben’s head. She's already angry enough that he thinks it <em> may </em>work.</p><p> </p><p>And there’s really only <em> one </em>way to get Rey to talk, if he remembers correctly:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Food. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“How about we make a deal,” he starts, Rey’s brow still furrowed at him. “Whoever answers the other one’s questions gets to keep the salsa and chips. When you want to ask a question, you have to hand them back over.”</p><p> </p><p>She’s about to yell something back, Ben knows it, but her gaze falls back to the basket and dish.</p><p> </p><p>He <em> swears </em>Rey licks her lips.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Okay. </em>Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>She holds out her hands and he pushes the chips and salsa back towards her, amazed at how well that all worked. </p><p> </p><p>Rey’s already crunched down five or six chips, all heavily dipped by the time Ben thinks of his first question. It can’t be anything <em> too </em>serious- yet.</p><p> </p><p>“When was Amelia born?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey looks up and swallows her bite like she’d already forgotten their deal.</p><p> </p><p>“August sixth, 2015.”</p><p> </p><p>He nods. Ben has no idea what he was doing that day. Certainly not thinking about his daughter being born halfway across the world.</p><p> </p><p>“How much did she weigh?”</p><p> </p><p>“2.6 kilograms.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where was Amelia born? In Paris?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s about to eat another chip, but stops.</p><p> </p><p>“Her birth certificate says the town of <em> Saint-Père </em> because there wasn’t proper equipment in the <em>Vézelay.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Equipment?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um. Yes.” She nods hesitantly. “When we arrived at the <em>Vézelay</em> clinic, the doctor drove us north to the larger hospital in <em>Saint-Père</em> and stayed with us because there wasn’t enough supplies to help with my...condition at the time.”</p><p> </p><p>This was supposed to be a simple, starting question. Easy. But the more words that tumble from Rey alight concern in Ben, especially since they’re not adding up.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, I’m confused. <em> We? </em>How did you give birth before getting to the hospital? And what was your condition?”</p><p> </p><p>She’s not eating at all now.</p><p> </p><p>“I gave birth to Amelia on my kitchen floor,” she quietly rasps out.</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes are cold and pointed at his hand rather than eyes.</p><p> </p><p>Ben takes a single breath, not expecting her to say that <em> at all. </em></p><p> </p><p>But then Rey is pushing the chips and salsa towards him, forcing them away from the previous question, obviously not wanting to bring up the memories.</p><p> </p><p>And Ben can understand why.</p><p> </p><p>He’s still gaping at her, stunned.</p><p> </p><p>“You had Amelia by <em> yourself? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey huffs, irritated. She basically confirms it by avoiding his question.</p><p> </p><p>“You have the chips now, dumbass. <em> I’m </em>the one who gets to ask the questions.”</p><p> </p><p>He grabs them back, numbness seeping into his fingers and toes. </p><p> </p><p>The thought of Rey, absolutely alone, living in a foreign country and giving <em> birth </em>is haunting him in ways he could never imagine. </p><p> </p><p>“Why are you doing all of this?”</p><p> </p><p>He snaps out of thought and straightens his spine. </p><p> </p><p>Oh yes. They have a game going, technically. </p><p> </p><p>“All of what?” he responds back, picking up a chip and trying to dunk it nonchalantly. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>This. </em>Being nice. Acting like you care about me suddenly.”</p><p> </p><p>His chewing all but stops. </p><p> </p><p>While her words sting, her voice behind them is something else. Watery, defeated and confused. Much like the way Ben’s has been this past month.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you think it was a lie if I <em> did </em>say I cared?”</p><p> </p><p>“I would. And I don’t even have the salsa right now.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks down, laughing an uncomfortable breath off his chest. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not doing this because I feel like I have a debt I owe you, Rey. And I'm not lying, I promise,” Ben begins, treading carefully. “It’s just that you’ve been teaching me things. So has Amelia. And it made me realize I want to learn.”</p><p> </p><p>She crosses her arms, leaning back on the colorful Michoacan armchair. </p><p> </p><p>“Learn what?”</p><p> </p><p>“I want to become a better man than Han was.”</p><p> </p><p>He gulps, the truth becoming free at last. </p><p> </p><p>“A-and I want to be a better father, too. Because that’s what Amelia deserves.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t say anything, his answer bouncing from her ears to her eyes, until it’s been absorbed. </p><p> </p><p>“...I imagine this a fairly new way of thinking for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben nods. “Yes. And I’m beginning to realize that’s the reason you hid Amelia away from me.”</p><p> </p><p>At that, he pushes the salsa and chips back towards Rey, but she doesn’t take them. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t need the food to answer your questions. It’s alright.”</p><p> </p><p>She chews on her lip. It feels like they’re slowly, but surely, migrating to the same page, rather than being in completely separate books. </p><p> </p><p>“Ben, I don’t want to force you into this role. The entire reason why I never told you, and the reason why I was never <em> going </em>to tell you is because I didn’t want to force the responsibility of being a father to a man who was so...busy.”</p><p> </p><p>“You can say that I’m a dick. It’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>She cracks a small smile but hides it away quickly.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. <em> Yes. </em> You were a dick. And can still be now. You weren’t father material then. I didn’t think it was possible for you to ever <em>be </em>father material.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey eyes him, her eyes finally softening. </p><p> </p><p>“I know Han scarred you, Ben. I saw how he affected you every single day growing up. I understand that he’s the reason you acted out so much as a kid, and on me most of the time.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry again, Rey, I was d-”</p><p> </p><p>She holds out a hand, effectively stopping him.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. You were a stupid kid. And I was a hopeless one. It was a...bad combination.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t understand why Rey is blaming herself at <em> all </em>for him basically bullying her for years, even when she was in love with him. </p><p> </p><p>Has she been thinking this poisonous thought for <em> this </em>long?</p><p> </p><p>“Rey, you were <em> not </em>hopeless. You were kind. It was me who was awful. You shouldn't be blaming yourself for anything.”</p><p> </p><p>She must not believe him, which is even worse, because Rey waves a hand off.</p><p> </p><p>“Sure, sure,” she scoffs. “Tell that to the thirteen year old who was still doodling hearts around your name when her crush had told her to <em> fuck off </em>the year before.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey is laughing. Ben is not. </p><p> </p><p>A realization hits him then, silently and deathly. </p><p> </p><p>He’s staring at her, the world growing muffled, Rey’s laughs becoming both the background noise and the only thing he’s capable of hearing.</p><p> </p><p>The realization hits him in a way he should have known it would from the beginning. And out of all places in the world, <em> San Juan’s.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Sure, Ben can learn to become a father for Amelia. He <em> can </em> do that. Rey can teach him. He <em> wants </em>to know.</p><p> </p><p>But Rey?</p><p> </p><p>No matter how much he’ll learn or how much the world can teach, there’s one indisputable and <em> undeniable </em> fact that has been with Ben since her first found her amongst the thorns and will follow him for the remainder of his life:</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ben is never going to deserve her.  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0059"><h2>59. May 14th, 2015</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>slight (?) NSFW warning (only mentions)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“Last time I checked, there wasn’t a dating app </span>
  <em>
    <span>specifically</span>
  </em>
  <span> made for single, working </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>pregnant women, Finn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He chuckles at her snappy response, her belly wide now enough that Rey can’t sit properly at her desk and use her laptop. </span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>Finn’s been a literal angel</span> <span>for the past six months, bringing her pickles and </span><em><span>pan au chocolat </span></em><span>(eaten together, of course) during breaks and covering her whenever she’s late to a shoot because of nausea. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>dammit</span>
  </em>
  <span> if Rey has to hear this same lecture for the hundredth time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t understand why you keep putting yourself down, love. You’re still hot!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes his point by slapping a hand to her desk, eyes grazing her tired, sweaty figure. “And French men love a working woman.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She sighs. The problem hasn’t been a matter of her self-worth, per se.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm not putting myself down, I swear. It's that I don't want <em>just </em>a date,</span>
  <span>” she whines. ”Actually, eating in public is usually the </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing I want to do. How do I just skip the dating apps and get them over to my apartment?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finn’s eyes blow wide and a small chuckle escapes him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he breathes out. “I knew your filter was slowly crumbling but, I think that’s the most uh...</span>
  <em>
    <span>forward</span>
  </em>
  <span> I’ve ever heard you be.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey can’t match his shock because in all honesty, it feels like she can say anything at this point and it will mean nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Finn. I’m sick and tired and horny. And there’s only so much a toy can do until-” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He thwacks his hands over his ears, groaning, and performs a small, overdramatic circle in front of Rey's desk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay, </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I get it! I don’t need to hear about your vaginal blues!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Heh. It feels good to make Finn crack. E<em>specially</em></span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>when’s she getting into the nitty-gritty </span>
  <em>
    <span>a la femme. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If only </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> were a coochie peruser,” Rey exhales, half-serious and half-not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finn hands drop, his sleeves brushing softly against his whatever-thousand-dollar Gucci tweed pants.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Even if I was a...coochie </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I couldn’t just do that to you, Rey.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The entire room shifts. And not in a good way.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do what? Sleep with me and not care?” Rey sneers, despite actively trying </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to. “I’ve already been through that shit-show. And everything is fine now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmmh. Yea.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“What?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finn shrugs, still just standing there. “Nothing.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Finn…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“All I’m saying is that your hormones are already doing wacky stuff to your brain. Making you forget things that you really </span>
  <em>
    <span>ought </span>
  </em>
  <span>not to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knows. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>Said</em> hormones are <em>also </em>causing her libido to spike. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span><em>And</em> form frustrated tears in the corners of Rey’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If I got a good dicking down, these hormones would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>greatly reduced!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finn throws his hands up in defeat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ugh okay! I have a mate who’s staying in Paris for a couple days next week. I’m sure he’d want to take you out.” He pulls out his phone and begins typing at something. “And he’s a bit of a manwhore so I don’t think you’ll have a problem scheduling a sleepover.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey suddenly perks up, sitting straighter in her chair. “Really? Is he cute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Finn pulls one of the sticky notes off her computer, one with a tiny drawing of some shoe on it for a collection reference, and scribbles down a phone number and name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Very. Here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Finally.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Finn.” She grabs it, excitement barely contained in her bones. “Thank you, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gives one, final tender look before grabbing his keys and ID, intended to head back to his office halfway across the building.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome. But please. Be careful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s obviously talking about protection, which is not necessary at this point besides preventing an STD, but also about another kind of </span>
  <em>
    <span>careful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It won’t happen again. He’s your friend right? I can trust him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finn sighs and shrugs again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“In whatever way you define </span>
  <em>
    <span>trust.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He gives her a cheek kiss, </span>
  <em>
    <span>faire la bise, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and leaves Rey with a shouldered smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey hangs the post-it back on her monitor, grinning and frankly excited. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s finally going to get some. Thank god too, because being horny while pregnant, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>without a willing partner to tend to your needs, is a different kind of pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But as the day wanes on, and Rey schedules meetings and shoots and client appointments, that small patch on her computer where the phone number is stuck to begins to <em>burn</em>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The heat grows throughout the day. She keeps glancing at the little piece of paper like it’s about to combust into flames at any second.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It would be so easy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Voids would be filled, both physically and mentally. Rey could have some of the satisfaction she’s been craving. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the end of the work day, her feet are swollen, her hips hurt and all she can think about is taking a nice, hot shower over anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey grabs the note.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s crumpled and thrown into her tiny metal wastebasket before she thinks too much about it.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0060"><h2>60. November 28, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you again to @Bonnieswims for DMing and reminding me that the date was creeping closer to Thanksgiving! I nearly forgot LOL</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben and Rey make another deal at lunch that Monday.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They talked like normal, grown-up adults. It felt strange and foreign.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben was also unusually quiet.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He mostly sat and listened to Rey.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she explained that if Ben wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>learn </span>
  </em>
  <span>how to be a father, he quite literally needed to take to the books and do some actual research, like Rey did before becoming a parent.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When she explained that if Ben wanted to spend more time with Amelia, he needed to be accompanied. Either by herself or Leia. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she explained that if Ben wanted the title of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Father </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Amelia, he was going to have to earn it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’d agreed, excitement contained under a well-worn mask when their enchiladas had been served. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They ate in peace for this first time in decades, together.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No fighting. No accusing. No strange looks or strange words that made Rey’s chest constrict in pain.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It was so peaceful in fact, that Rey also allowed one other thing for Ben this week.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Thanksgiving dinner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Together. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>As a family. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leia, Ben, Rey and Amelia sit around the Solo-Organa table, plates upon plates of American-style dinner dishes nearly covering the entire surface. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Funny enough, the last time Rey had a Thanksgiving was with Leia too, during the year following her parents death. She’d refused to let Rey stay home alone and dine on take-out, pulled her by the arm to next door, and made sure she’d ate a full three-course meal. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The memory is bittersweet, like most are regarding the Solo-Organa family. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amelia is completely losing her shit. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> had a real Thanksgiving meal. It just doesn’t exist in France. And Rey never bothered to keep up an essentially pointless tradition while still overseas. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amelia watches her grandmother dish up a plate far too loaded for a four year old to consume, her eyes sparkling and mouth dropped. She’s standing in the cushiony chair, hands gripping the table as her little knees bounce up and down in excitement. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Puis-je encore manger?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amelia asks Leia, who still really only speaks a few phrases of French.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But it must be true that a grandmother will always be able to understand her grandchild, because before Rey even has a chance to translate, Leia is grinning and handing Amelia the heavy plate.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You can eat now, sweetheart.” </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amelia squeals, causing the entire table to let out a giggle as she slams her butt down onto the seat and proceeds to dive hands-first into the mashed potatoes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Amelia!” Rey exclaims, grabbing the toddler’s messy hands out of the pile. “Use a spoon, </span>
  <em>
    <span>mon chou!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey cleans off her left hand while Amelia licks the potatoes off the other, Ben watching the entire scene happen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...And not doing anything.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey clears her throat, motioning to the other side of Amelia and the man finally gets a clue. He rounds to the other side of her chair with his napkin and cleans off the other hand delicately. Like he’s afraid he’ll break one of her tiny fingers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It must be a sight to see because Leia freezes, serving-spoon caught midair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Embarrassment quickly replaces any other kind of feelings that threaten to break Rey, and she throws the dirty napkin back onto the table and realigns herself in her own chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ah,” she hears Amelia say to Ben. “Tanks.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He nods and picks up her spoon, spearing it into the mashed potatoes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s not eat like animals, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She grins a cheeky smile and grips the spoon, the food so quickly into her mouth that Ben actually startles back.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“W-wait you’re gonna choke, Amelia-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leia and Rey watch in baited silence as Ben pulls the empty spoon from her mouth, Amelia coughing along with it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He wipes up the spit-strewn food and stares down at her plate, extremely focused.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amelia coughs up a few more white chunks but doesn’t care.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Food is the most important thing to her, of course.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>(</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maman</span>
  </em>
  <span> is just a close second) </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben must realize that most of the food is too big for Amelia’s mouth and reaches across the table, grabbing his own fork and knife. He begins cutting up the chunks of food that would indeed make a four year old choke.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey takes a gulp of cider, watching. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> about to do that.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She swears.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's just that Ben must have started studying already. So the information is newer. Fresh.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They watch him cut everything up to more feasible pieces, Amelia not even waiting to toss a hunk of turkey into her drooling mouth. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He returns to his side of the table, grinning and satisfied. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey takes another short sip.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Good idea,” she calls out over to him as the dinner begins slowly moving again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His gaze rises from the plate and up to Rey.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His content grin remains as Ben begins to pour gravy and season his dinner, Rey not missing any of the sneaky glances he attempts over to her and Amelia. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She can tell he wants to watch everything. Learn everything. But still keep the safe distance that he knows Rey lives comfortably in. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I hope I didn’t burn the turkey too bad,” Leia chimes in finally. “I haven’t made a proper Thanksgiving dinner in years.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Years?” Rey asks, tearing apart a dinner roll. “You and Ben didn’t spend last year together?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s an innocent enough question, but Ben looks away like he’s guilty.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s aware that their relationship became rocky after he took his current job. After Han’s death though, it must have nosedived. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No. I was in New York last Thanksgiving,” Ben adds, swallowing his bite. “Business trip.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She slathers some butter on her roll, feeling ridiculously American.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you...usually out of town?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Um. I used to be.” Ben scrapes some food around awkwardly. “But I won’t be traveling at all this upcoming year.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Well, that’s good. No need to explain to Amelia why Ben would be gone for long, strange periods of time, much like what Han did.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey wonders if he had trips planned but canceled all of them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She’s not going to ask, though.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Conversation flows a bit easier after that, Rey talking about her new job at the high school, coordinating with Leia on which days she’ll need a babysitter and general house hunting.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>There’s only one house Rey has kept her eye on. Even though she shouldn’t.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It </span>
  <em>
    <span>would </span>
  </em>
  <span>be convenient,” she explains to Leia. “But it’s been off the market since you helped me sell it in 2012.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Leia sighs, setting her fork down and thinking. “I haven’t personally talked much with the new neighbors. But I don’t think they’d shut the door if you made them a healthy enough offer.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span> It </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>work. And Rey honestly wants to try anything that gets them out of that cramped-as-hell apartment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They keep discussing the real estate prices, completely tuning out the other side of the table where Ben must be listening in and Amelia is too busy stuffing her face with </span>
  <em>
    <span>literal </span>
  </em>
  <span>stuffing to pay attention.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which reminds her…</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>moving, Ben?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He was watching Amelia eat, probably to make sure that food wasn’t spit and flung everywhere again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yea. About that. I’m still having trouble with leasing the penthouse. And I think I’m going to actually void to contract anyways.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Void it? Do you not like your new place?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He shakes his head. “No, I do. It’s nice. But it’s too far.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Far?” Rey dumbly repeats. “From what-?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben doesn’t need to respond. Rey clamps her mouth shut, fully knowing the answer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It <em>would</em> be easier for him to spend time with Amelia if he doesn’t have to commute </span>
  <span>back</span>
  <span> to the city every night after work. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Very logical.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. That-um. That makes sense,” she says to her green beans, attempting to hide the blush that she feels warm her cheeks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Rey returns to her food, helping Amelia finish her plate and clean up, taking a deep breath the minute Ben leaves the room to help clean dishes. She didn't even realize she was holding it, the air burning in her throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Yes. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Logical, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey reminds herself. <em>All for ease. </em></span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>
    <em>Nothing more.</em>
  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I'm commissioning the amazing <a href="https://twitter.com/faunary">El</a> to draw a scene with our hobbled-together family! But I'm not sure which one to choose??? Please comment which chapter I should have illustrated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0061"><h2>61. March 6th, 1999</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Apologies for being so slow w/comments. I feel like I have to say this like every 5 chapters, but I PROMISE i read every single one!!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey struggles to keep her head off the floor of the dirty school bus while two of the older boys, fourth graders, hold her down by the chest and legs, laughing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get </span>
  <em>
    <span>off!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>she screams, hoping the bus driver will hear her plea. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boys laugh even harder now as one of them pulls a sharpie from his pocket and uncaps it. Her eyes blow wide, knowing what he’s going to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-no! Stop!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She feels the harsh tip of the permanent marker scrape across her skin, ink mixing with the tears that spill down her cheeks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the other kids just watch everything happen. They don’t want to be the next victim. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is what you get for stepping on my foot,” the boy growls, drawing something on her forehead. “And for trying to sit in the back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey knows first-graders aren't <em>technically</em> supposed to sit in the back. It’s just a rule. But it was the only empty seat, and Rey didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>mean </span>
  </em>
  <span>to step on anyone’s toes. Especially this big and mean fourth grade boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tries kicking the other one off but it’s practically useless. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop!” Rey shouts, “o-or else-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll what? Pee your pants, little crybaby?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy caps the marker and lets out an evil howl of a laugh, admiring whatever he’s done to her poor face. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I have a b-brother!” she suddenly screams out when neither boy gets off of her. “And he’s b-big! He’s a middle schooler and he’ll c-come and kick your </span>
  <em>
    <span>butts!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The boy raises a brow, now a bit suspicious.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yea </span>
  <em>
    <span>right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re just making that up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>making it up, but she does have someone who is, in fact, a big, tall and aggressive sixth-grader and</span>
  <em>
    <span> also </span>
  </em>
  <span>willing to beat up whoever Rey tells him to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She uses the one second of their confusion to slip out from under their legs and painfully hit the floor of the bus, where she quickly scoops up her backpack from the aisle. The bus driver doesn’t say anything when she rushes to the front while they’re still moving, and sits in the handicap seat, her stop only a minute away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey nervously turns to the back, both boys watching her with squinting eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gulps, praying that Ben will be in his front yard today after school. He gets out thirty minutes earlier, and will usually hang out and wait for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Usually.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t see very well to the right side, where the stop is, but practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>runs </span>
  </em>
  <span>down the stairs and out onto the gravel, chest heaving in relief when she sees him eating an orange on the grass, a book held under his foot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ben!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bus begins to slowly leave, but Rey rushes to him, crying either from fear or comfort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bus stop runs past both of their houses, but if you glance through the </span>
  <em>
    <span>veeeery </span>
  </em>
  <span>back window, like where the two bully boys happen to be sitting, you’ll be able to see their lawns.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They’ll</span>
  <em>
    <span> also</span>
  </em>
  <span> be able to see Rey run up to the terrifying tall sixth-grader she warned them about, who is indeed </span>
  <em>
    <span>real.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey? What’s going on?” he shouts over to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her backpack bounces violently against her back, black ink dripping from her chin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben gets up and begins to walk to Rey, meeting her halfway. She practically jumps into his arms, marker-face pressed into his black shirt with no fear of staining the already dark fabric. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your face-” Ben whispers, trying to pry her head out from its hiding place. “Someone wrote swear words across your face.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just sniffles. Of </span>
  <em>
    <span>course </span>
  </em>
  <span>they wrote bad words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that why you’re crying?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey nods into his shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did they hurt you? The boy who did this?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did. Both of them did. Because Rey’s arms, neck, legs and hips </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>hurt from where they held her down. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I sat in the back,” she says, not answering the correct question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben lets her blubber and blubber for a while, the sun warm against her back, his hands rubbing wide circles on her arms. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-you won’t let them-” Rey starts again, “you won’t let them hurt me again, right Ben?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s quiet, holds her, their feet planted into the soft grass.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The circles stop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I won’t let them hurt you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The next day on the bus, the boys don’t bother Rey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don’t speak to her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Don’t look at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They must have seen Ben.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Without him even having to be there, Ben’s already kept his promise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like he always will.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>13, 16, &amp; 29</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0062"><h2>62. February 3rd, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please mind date, we have a slight time skip.</p><p>Also, COVID will not be included in this story. I'm already dealing with the pandemic (like all of us are) in IRL and want this to truly be an AU.</p><p>Chaney</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Because the green room has only one office, and Mr. Faulkner’s years of paperwork and knick-knacks already permanently reside and live there, Rey is given an office, just <em> not </em>in the theatre wing.</p><p> </p><p>Her office is in the English department, for some reason, most likely because it was one of the only vacant options. She doesn’t mind or complain. She has her own space and desk, which is incredible for a theatre tech teacher who only works twenty hours a week.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, Rey even has a door that <em> locks. </em></p><p> </p><p>She didn’t even have that luxury in Paris. </p><p> </p><p>(Even if <em> that </em>particular office was almost four times larger)</p><p> </p><p>Leia comes at eleven everyday and picks her and Amelia up. Once she’s been dropped off at the school, Amelia stays at her house for the remainder of Rey’s work day.</p><p> </p><p>At first, she was nervous as hell for leaving Amelia Every. Single. Day.</p><p> </p><p>But, now that’s she back to working, with a steady income and a new sense of independence, Rey is learning to like it.</p><p> </p><p>Being a single mother is rewarding. But difficult.</p><p> </p><p>The extra hand is...nice.</p><p> </p><p><em> Two </em>extra hands, she reminds herself.</p><p> </p><p>Looking up from her lesson plan on mixing paints for studio lighting versus stage lighting, her eyes graze the clock that sits on the plain wood desk. It’s nearly three o’clock right now. He’ll be getting off work and making the commute back to Leia’s house soon.</p><p> </p><p>Even if it’s only a few hours with his daughter, Ben soaks up his time with Amelia like it’s liquid, sacred gold. </p><p> </p><p>She almost feels bad that Ben has to be the one to pick her up from the school after work. Rey had insisted over winter break that she was going to buy a new car, but Ben and Leia simply wouldn’t let her.</p><p> </p><p>It takes him away from Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>But Ben never complains. He always shows up right on time, still dressed in his work suit, briefcase tossed into the backseat. If she didn’t know any better, Rey would guess he’s coming <em> straight </em>from the office to pick her up. But that doesn’t make much sense, since he’d already been with Amelia for several hours.</p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t pay the thought much time.</p><p> </p><p>Mostly because Rey is a very busy teacher. Her classes are quite the handful. They ask her about working in Paris and old stories about when Mr. Faulkner <em> wasn’t </em>bald. </p><p> </p><p>Jokes on them, the man’s never had a lick of hair on his head to begin with.</p><p> </p><p>The day draws on, Rey teaching and working and getting her hands dirty with paint. </p><p> </p><p>She loves it. </p><p> </p><p>Rey’s always smiling when Ben's car swings into the pick up zone to grab her. She smiles because she’s excited to see Amelia again after a long day of work. She wants to sit and chat with Leia about gossip and woes. She wants to see Ben’s face-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> No. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She buries the thought back down, into a deep place she never touches and yanks open the door with a much more muted expression, like a poorly attempted poker face. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey,” he softly greets her, like he routinely does now.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi,” she responds back. Like every day.</p><p> </p><p>“How was work today? Messy?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ah- </em>yes.” Rey lets out a slight laugh, looking down to her white blouse. ”We mixed paints today. I didn’t notice that.”</p><p> </p><p>She wets her thumb and tries to remove a tiny, blue droplet, her eyes slowly moving to look over to Ben, who sits spine-straight in the driver’s seat.</p><p> </p><p>His suit is a dark grey today, with a matching tie, hair slicked back in a way that secretly makes her heart skip a few beats. His hair…</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, what that’s in your hair, Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t think twice before reaching over and dusting the white, powdery stuff from the back of his neck. They’ve become comfortable, at least, with each other over the past two months, but he still jolts at her touch.</p><p> </p><p>Okay, so <em> comfortable </em>is a bit of a stretch.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Civil.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yes. They’ve become <em> civil </em>around each other. </p><p> </p><p>Ben quickly lets go of the wheel and starts dusting it off, eyes wide.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, probably just something from Leia’s house. She was cooking before I left.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, that <em> sorta </em>makes sense. </p><p> </p><p>But just like the briefcase and everything else, Rey doesn’t dwell on it.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia jumps into her mother’s arms when they arrive back to the house. Rey kisses her cheeks and forehead and nose; everywhere. She saves up all the kisses during the workday, she tells Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Maman </em> missed you so much, <em> mon chou, </em>” Rey hums, smoothing down the front of Amelia’s shirt. It’s a Van Halen one, courtesy of Ben’s old collection. “Did you have fun with Leia today?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oui! </em>We did coloring bock!”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Book, </em> ” she hears Leia call over from the kitchen. “Not <em> bock, </em>honey.”</p><p> </p><p> Amelia turns, listening, then spins back to her mother.</p><p> </p><p>“Coloring <em> book. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Her English is also quickly improving, no thanks to Leia’s ruthlessness and inability to speak French. Rey still tries to keep most <em> français </em>at home, to make sure Amelia keeps her bilingual brain active.</p><p> </p><p>“Very good, sweetheart,” Rey smiles. “What did you do with Ben today?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyebrows raise, excitement lighting up Amelia’s face quickly at the sound of his name.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Bread!” </em>Amelia screams.</p><p> </p><p>Behind her, Rey hears Ben stop his heavy steps, undressing from his jacket and shoes.</p><p> </p><p>“...bread?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Dupain! </em>Bread! Ben made bread!”</p><p> </p><p>Now even <em> more </em>lost than she was earlier, Rey slowly turns around to see Ben still unmoving, eyes communicating something down to Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh- not <em> bread-” </em>the four year old starts. “Um. Bed.”</p><p> </p><p>“Bed? He made his <em> bed? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“No-no-” she tries again. “Dead.”</p><p> </p><p>Good to know Amelia’s expanded her English vocabulary, at least. Rhyming is a new concept for her.</p><p> </p><p>Making shit up though, <em> definitely </em>is not.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben is...dead,” Rey states, eyes bouncing between the two of them, not believing a single word.</p><p> </p><p>He clears his throat suddenly, still keeping his line of sight to Amelia, who just shrugs at him, turns around and...walks away.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait a minute, <em>attends, </em>Amelia-!”</p><p> </p><p>“DINNER!” Leia shouts to everyone in the house.</p><p> </p><p>Ben acts even faster than Amelia’s sudden exit, scooping up his jacket and briefcase, intended to head up the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>“Ben-”</p><p> </p><p>“Gotta go freshen up! Sorry!” he calls from over his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>Rey sits, a little stunned, both knees planted on the rug of the foyer. She hears her daughter rattle something to her grandmother, Ben’s steps echoing above her and the smell of dinner whiffs through the house.</p><p> </p><p>They’re hiding something from her. Both Ben and Amelia. And possibly Leia too. </p><p> </p><p>She huffs, not angry. Rey was fully aware <em> something </em> mischievous was going to cook up the second him and Amelia had one-on-one time. Or were ever under the same roof.</p><p> </p><p>It’s just a matter of figuring out <em> what. </em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hmmmmmm</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0063"><h2>63. January 10th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Amelia's POV again! These chapters are so much fun to write ehehe.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The metal bars on the jungle gym are cold, and Amelia shivers as she grips each one and swings onto the next, far too determined to reach the other side.</p><p> </p><p>She grits her teeth and latches to the next one.</p><p> </p><p>But then her arms begin to ache and Amelia’s panicking now because she can hear the other kids behind her, following right from where she just swung from. “Hurry up already!” one of them, an older girl, says as she dangles helplessly.</p><p> </p><p>She looks down towards the ground which feels too far away.</p><p> </p><p>Sniffles start before Amelia can stop them and before she knows it, she’s calling for help.</p><p> </p><p>“Au s-secours!” she screams. “Help me!”</p><p> </p><p>The world darkens and dizzies in Amelia’s state of extreme distress and she feels like this, <em>today</em>, will be the day she finally breaks a bone.</p><p> </p><p>Maman says it's just a matter of time, given how often she runs into walls and the couch. </p><p> </p><p>But just as the words leave her mouth, she feels hands grip under her arms, the weight of her body finally freed from her shoulders.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got you,” grandes oreilles says, drawing her away from the monkey bars and the mean kids who told her to <em> hurry up. </em></p><p> </p><p>He sets her down onto the cushiony ground, and Amelia cries a few more tears not from fright, but of relief.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you want to keep playing?” he says from behind her.</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head and looks over to the park bench, where Leia sits, watching them.</p><p> </p><p>“I w-wanna go see Leia.”</p><p> </p><p>Grandes oreilles takes her hand and begins to walk them over, noticing just how warm he is compared to her.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Her nose runs a bit from the frost in the air and Amelia wonders if they’ll be la neige here at their new home, too.</p><p> </p><p>She stumbles over to Leia when they reach the sidewalk and immediately buries her face into the soft, warm fabric of her coat. They mumble something to each other as Leia pats her back.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia <em> really </em> likes Leia. She kind of reminds her of Maman but she’s much more snappy and fun. She also smells really nice.</p><p> </p><p>“Sweetheart,” she calls down to her, “Ben brought some cupcakes from work. Would you like one?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia surfaces from her place of security to look over to grandes oreilles, who now sits on the bench next to her and Leia. He’s holding the usual pink box with the blue bow and it’s opened, Amelia peering in with curiosity.</p><p> </p><p>A <em>c</em><em>upcake, </em> she’s learned, is <em> actually </em> un petit gâteau.</p><p> </p><p>She’s about to reach in and grab for the one with blue and white icing, but stops short, looking up for permission.</p><p> </p><p>“Go ahead,” he says. “I brought them for you.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia smiles so hard her cheeks hurt, grabbing the cupcake messily and launching it into her mouth, top-first. </p><p> </p><p>She’s not supposed to tell Maman about the cupcakes or tartes or loaves of bread because Ben said it’s not time yet. He’d explained to her soon after Maman started going to work that it was going to be <em> their </em> little secret, one that wouldn’t hurt Maman.</p><p> </p><p>Grandes oreilles made her pinky promise. He said if she kept quiet, he’d supply her with all the sweets and sandwiches she wanted, just until he told Maman everything.</p><p> </p><p>And of <em> course </em>she’d agreed. Amelia’s not stupid. </p><p> </p><p>She scarfs down the petit gateau like it’s nothing, Leia scoffing at the mess she makes all over her hands and her lap. While she wipes off the colorful frosting, Amelia looks up and over across the park to see the girl from the monkey bars staring at her.</p><p> </p><p>She narrows her eyes at the girl, taking in her pretty pink coat and sparkly hat that look <em> nothing </em>like Amelia’s awesome outfit littered with skulls, skateboards and monsters. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Hmph.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>...moche,” </em>she sneers out, loud enough for the grown-ups to hear. </p><p> </p><p>Leia ducks down and tries to understand what she’s saying.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Mowshe?  </em>Who’s that, honey?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia lifts a finger over to the girl who smirks evilly back.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah- I think she’s saying <em> moche, </em>Mom,” Ben says following her line of thinking.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Moche? </em>What does that mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Ben laughs a little.</p><p> </p><p>“It means <em> ugly. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Leia barks out a laugh then too, and Amelia looks over to see the old woman practically cackling. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em>Amelia</em>,” she pipes out between giggles. “I don’t think that's a very nice thing to say.”</p><p> </p><p>They watch as the girl across the playground sits up from the bench and stomps a foot, then yells for someone. A man appears from close by to answer her call, as she says something up to him. He’s tall, like Ben is, but Ben is bigger and his hair is way nicer than this guy’s. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia realizes then that this man must be the girl’s Papa. </p><p> </p><p>He picks her up, tucking her into the crook of his arm and carries her off as she sticks a tongue out at Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>Jealousy pricks her skin.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia <em> does </em> have one. <em> Her </em> Papa is here, somewhere, in America. Maman promised that she’d get to meet him someday and she <em> never </em>breaks a promise.</p><p> </p><p>It doesn’t stop her face from falling though, as she watches the older girl and her Papa walk away, her arms wrapped lovingly around his neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Amelia,” grandes oreilles softly calls down to her.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t respond, hypnotized as her eyes continue to follow them.</p><p> </p><p>“Viens là, Amelia," he says with a stiff accent. “Wait, no-.” She hears him groan and try to fix his sentence. “Viens<em> ici.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia hops off the bench slowly, obeying, and drags her feet so she’s facing Ben. Her hands reach up to tap at his large knees, eyes still pointed at the ground. </p><p> </p><p>He leans down so his face is only a breath away. “Was that girl mean to you?”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head. <em> Not really.  </em></p><p> </p><p>But Amelia did <em> not </em>like her attitude. </p><p> </p><p>“Why did you call her ugly then?”</p><p> </p><p>Distracted and not wanting to look at his face, Amelia continues drumming her palms on Ben’s knees. She doesn’t want to answer. </p><p> </p><p>He rises back up to look across the park again.</p><p> </p><p>Then, before Amelia knows it, grandes oreilles is lifting her off of the ground and setting her on his hip. </p><p> </p><p>It’s almost like she’s on the monkey bars again, with how high up Ben holds her.</p><p> </p><p>“I want to go on the slide. Do you want to go with me?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes finally peer up at his face. He has freckles like she does too, but not like Maman’s. <em>Theirs</em> are dark and all over the place while Maman’s are light and packed on her nose.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Amelia whispers out, already feeling a little bit better.</p><p> </p><p>While he walks them back over to the playground, Amelia takes the chance to shove her face into Ben’s neck where the skin is prickly and closes her eyes, wishing that things in her life were different. </p><p> </p><p>Because as he holds her, cheering her up by taking Amelia to the slides which he <em> knows </em>are her favorite, just like the cupcakes, she wishes for something.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia wishes <em> Ben </em>was her Papa.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>ya...</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0064"><h2>64. November 25th, 2019 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter happens in the morning of November 25th, while the other two that share the same date (56 &amp;58) take place in the afternoon.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Snoke calls him up to his office at approximately 10:03 AM. </p><p> </p><p>It’s strange being back. Ben feels out of place. Like this building is no longer the home he used to make out of it. </p><p> </p><p>His desk feels cold and foreign. The keyboard is derived from its clicks and joy. </p><p> </p><p>Ben is...not happy at work. </p><p> </p><p>It grows worse when he takes the elevator up to the top floor, his necktie probably crooked and suit wrinkled. Leia doesn't have a steamer and all of his stuff is in boxes, stuffed into a storage unit outside of town.</p><p> </p><p>He knocks softly against the oak. </p><p> </p><p>“Come in,” Snoke’s voice bellows from the other side.</p><p> </p><p>Ben enters, face tight and passive. He hates showing any kind of emotion around his boss. It makes him feel feeble. </p><p> </p><p>“Would you like to now explain why in God’s name you took nearly <em> four </em> weeks off for your apparent <em> ‘vacation’ </em>?” he asks before Ben even takes a seat. </p><p> </p><p>Surprised by the urgency and venom in Snoke’s voice, all he can do is blink and collect air to fill his lungs. It’s hard to, Ben finds, when there’s an indescribable weight pressing against his shoulders and ribs. </p><p> </p><p>“I was…”</p><p> </p><p>What <em> was </em>he doing?</p><p> </p><p>Oh yes. That’s right. </p><p> </p><p>“I was spending time with my daughter.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben has never in his life mentioned anything about what happens outside the four corners of this skyscraper. Snoke never asked. And he’s getting the sneaking suspicion that Snoke doesn’t care very much in the first place. </p><p> </p><p>He decides spontaneously in that very moment to test his boss. This man that ruled over his life for almost a decade now. Snoke should know <em> something.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“You spent three weeks with a <em> child? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Ben gulps. Snoke hasn’t even bothered to look up from his computer and meet his eyes. </p><p> </p><p>“No,” he responds. “She’s a baby. My fiancée just gave birth.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm.”</p><p> </p><p>He still doesn't look up. Snoke clacks away at the keyboard, like Ben is nothing more than noisy wind chimes, distracting the day’s peace. </p><p> </p><p>Ben pushes a bit more. </p><p> </p><p>“She weighed nearly fourteen pounds. The doctors said she was a record baby at the hospital.”</p><p> </p><p>“Congratulations.”</p><p> </p><p>That same pressure is both being lifted yet pushing harder than it ever has before. Ben never noticed it until today. Why is that?</p><p> </p><p>“She’s our second child.”</p><p> </p><p>Snoke hums nonchalantly.</p><p> </p><p>“My wife’s skin turned green during labor.”</p><p> </p><p>Snoke stops typing. His hand hovers over the keyboard until they’re being raised to his face and rubbed annoyingly against his bony brows. </p><p> </p><p>“I hope that you’ve caught up on all your cases,” Snoke sighs, not all responding to Ben. “First Order needed you and our stocks could potentially plummet again unless you get your ass back in gear.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben nods. </p><p> </p><p>The weight is suddenly gone. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll make sure to catch up,” he assures him, a faux grin plastered on his face. “Thank you, Mr. Snoke. It’s been a pleasure.”</p><p> </p><p>The old man waves him off. No response is needed. Or expected. </p><p> </p><p>Ben takes the elevator back down with a strange skip in his step. The air feels sweeter, even though they’re inside, as he sits down and starts searching for a few phone numbers. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>He was never built for a desk job anyways.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0065"><h2>65. February 6th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Her phone rings early Thursday morning, Rey groaning while she reaches over in a sleep-haze to see Mr. Faulk- <em> Aaron’s </em>caller ID lighting up her screen. </p><p> </p><p>She answers it blearily, half-asleep.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Yello? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Rey!” He replies, somehow ecstatic this early in the morning. “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”</p><p> </p><p>She glances over to her digital clock. <em> Six am. </em></p><p> </p><p>“Not at all…”</p><p> </p><p>“Great! We have that conference meeting this morning and I was wondering if you would like to carpool with me? Since it’s going to be pretty early.”</p><p> </p><p>Shit. Rey nearly forgot about that. She doesn’t usually have to come in during the morning, but she’s technically required to be there today. </p><p> </p><p>“Uh, sure. Let me just get Amelia dressed and dropped off. Could you pick me up at her grandma’s house?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course. Shoot me the address and I’ll see you in an hour!”</p><p> </p><p>She groans, hanging up the call. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia is unhappy to be woken this early too, her bedhead absolutely uncontrollable. Rey drags the both of them into the bathroom where they brush their teeth together, Amelia’s tiny feet teetering on her step stool in order to spit into the sink. Bath time was last night so besides a thorough face wash and a swipe of mascara, they’re good to go.</p><p> </p><p>She has a sneaking suspicion that Mr. Faulkner will either be swinging them by a Mcdonalds or Jack in the Box for breakfast. The man never cooks. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s appetite is still insatiable, despite her grogginess, and she still manages to shovel down two whole bowls of cereal, eyes drooped and hair mused, like she's just on autopilot.</p><p> </p><p>It’s quite the sight to see. </p><p> </p><p>Leia can’t hold her giggle in when Amelia loads into the back seat. She doesn’t talk. Only yawns. And Rey realizes on the way over that her shirt is on backwards and she’s missing a shoe.</p><p> </p><p>Nobody in their little home is an early bird, apparently. </p><p> </p><p>The point is quickly proven when she tottles into Leia’s house, drops her play bag and heads <em> straight </em> to the living room. From there, Leia and Rey watch her flop face-first onto the cushion and then proceed to fall <em> right </em>back asleep. </p><p> </p><p>“She didn't like getting up early today, did she?” Leia says with a hand clapped over her mouth, still trying to hold giggles in.</p><p> </p><p>Rey shrugs. “When you wake up at ten am everyday, the routine gets a little too comfy, I guess.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s still early enough that Ben should still be at home. But when she glances around to the kitchen and the dining room, he’s nowhere to be found. She doesn't hear him moving around upstair either. </p><p> </p><p>“Hey Leia?” she calls over to the kitchen, slipping her booties back on.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“Did Ben leave for work already?”</p><p> </p><p>Leia sets down the cup of coffee she’d just filled. She can hear the clink against the counter.</p><p> </p><p>“He left for work at four today.”</p><p> </p><p>“Four...in the<em> morning? </em> ” Rey asks, her eyes nearly bulging. She didn't think his days were <em> that </em>long in the office. </p><p> </p><p>Something gleams in Leia’s eyes.</p><p> </p><p>“I take it he hasn’t told you yet.”</p><p> </p><p>Another surprise? Another secret? </p><p> </p><p>Rey can’t do any of that shit anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“Told me <em> what? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Leia takes a sip, a single brow arched.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought he told you on Monday. That’s why you’ve been giving him that stink eye all week, right?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Stink...eye…? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not giving him-” she groans, unable to form a correct defense. “Leia, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I know Ben and <em> Amelia </em> are hiding something. But I thought it was a toy, o-or a present, or something like <em> that. </em>I know he likes to buy her shit that she’s not allowed to have.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ah.” Leia turns back around to the counter, humming. “Amelia <em> is </em>kind of his accomplice.”</p><p> </p><p>But before Rey can comment on <em> that </em>little statement, her phone lights up again and she realizes Mr. Faulkner must be here to pick her up.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not letting this conversation drop,” she threatens, grabbing her bag. “And I’m asking Ben first thing when I see him tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“You could go see him right now,” Leia responds nonchalantly. “He’s at <em> Concerto Cafe </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey stops a step short of the door knob.</p><p> </p><p>“Why the hell would Ben be at a<em> cafe? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Leia grins, taking yet another sip of the steaming coffee.</p><p> </p><p>...And doesn’t answer. </p><p> </p><p>“I gotta go!” Rey almost shouts, quickly remembering that Amelia’s trying to sleep. She stomps over to Mr. Faulkner’s SUV and <em> Jesus, </em>how is this man so chipper already?</p><p> </p><p>“Ready to tackle today, Rey?”</p><p> </p><p>She groans, head now pulsing from lack of coffee. Rey should have taken a to-go cup from Leia’s.</p><p> </p><p>“How about some breakfast first?” she asks, already knowing how her colleague will respond.</p><p> </p><p>“Great idea!” He checks his watch. “We’ve got some time. Is there anywhere in particular you’d like to go?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey grins, looking out through the window, a hint of sharpness to her voice.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. How does <em> Concerto Cafe </em> sound?”</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0066"><h2>66. February 6th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>can you guys tell I listen to Stromae to help write this fic lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben reaches for another bag, despite the ways his abs and hamstrings both ache, and sets the heavy thing up onto his shoulder with a grunt.</p><p> </p><p>There’s three more to carry over and he groans at the thought. Thursdays are the big delivery days, as he's been at it for hours now, transporting everything as efficiently as possible so he can go help with the breakfast rush.</p><p> </p><p>He paws open the door with his foot, and swears, because <em>J</em><em>esus, </em> bags of flour are fucking <em> heavy. </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben continues to the front storage room and goes to deposit the burlap bag onto the rack but is stopped quickly when a voice calls over to him. </p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ne le mets pas là-bas, </em> Solo!” Andre calls over a mixing bowl. “In the back. <em>Dans au fond! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He struggles through the words, translating them best he can, and is able to pick up most of what Andre tells him. With a nod of understanding, Ben places the bag higher on his shoulder and walks to the back, his white shirt sticking in sweat-stained blotches to his body.</p><p> </p><p>Ben finishes off the other two bags and waves off the dry delivery. Breakfast already started hours ago but the dining area is becoming louder by the minute.</p><p> </p><p>He notices that Pierre, a man much older than himself with wispy, white hair, is making the tarts that Amelia especially likes.</p><p> </p><p>“Can you save one for me?” Ben asks gingerly, approaching him at the wooden bench. </p><p> </p><p>Pierre smiles up to him. “Ah, for your <em> petite fille? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. She loves the blueberry ones.”</p><p> </p><p>He watches as Pierre moves one of the desserts towards the edge of the table, so it’s separated from the remainder of the batch. “<em> Bien sûr, </em>” he responds, eyes crinkling from his smile, “I save only for you, Solo.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Merci, </em> Pierre.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben nods in thanks and turns to retrieve his apron. From behind him, he hears Pierre utter out, “<em> Ah...ze American is learning so fast…” </em></p><p> </p><p>He pretends not to hear him, but cracks a grin anyways, unbeknownst to the others.</p><p> </p><p>Ben <em> also </em>begins to crack eggs, dozens of them actually, into the bucket that serves as the holding dish for the yolks and egg whites.</p><p> </p><p>Months ago, he wasn’t even <em> allowed </em> to go near the working ingredients. But the boys in the back gained pity when Ben had asked to learn how to bake, so he could show his daughter how to bake as well.</p><p> </p><p>“Solo! Milk is here!”</p><p> </p><p>He breaks away from the cartons of eggs and throws off the apron, back outside again to unload the other truck. </p><p> </p><p>It <em> is </em> the job he originally took. Ben should not be complaining.</p><p> </p><p>With a dozen jugs of milk cradled in his arms, hands and elbows, Ben starts to walk over to the refrigerator but is stopped, yet again, but not by one of the boys.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ben?" </em> she calls meekly through the abundance of chatter. " What the hell are you doing <em>here?</em>”</p><p> </p><p>He freezes, looking over to the voice that's been haunting his every thought, dream and moment lately. His heart drops, seeing her standing in front of the till, arms crossed and face creased in intrigue. Her coworker from the school, the bald one, stands next to her perhaps even more confused than she is.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Shit. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh…”</p><p> </p><p>Ben motions down to the plastic jugs.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m...moving the milk,” he dumbly states. </p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t say anything back. Doesn't laugh. Doesn’t move. </p><p> </p><p>He is fully aware he’s been caught completely red-handed. </p><p> </p><p>“Let me just put these down and I’ll, um. I’ll take my break.”</p><p> </p><p>Even amidst the chaos of the breakfast crowd, he can hear her heels tap impatiently on the floor.</p><p> </p><p>It's the only response Ben needs.</p><p> </p><p>He continues his way to the refrigerators, a blush of shame no doubt spreading across his face. How did she find out? Why is Rey even awake so early? He didn’t want her to find out like <em> this. </em>Not at all. And after all the effort…</p><p> </p><p>It must have been Amelia’s slip earlier in the week.</p><p> </p><p>She’s usually <em> so </em>good. </p><p> </p><p>Actually, it’s a bit concerning how well Amelia can keep a secret at her age. </p><p> </p><p><em> Must take after her parents, </em> Ben assumes.</p><p> </p><p>“Who’s the woman?” Andre asks when they nearly collide at the metal door.</p><p> </p><p>He sighs.</p><p> </p><p>“She’s my...baby mama,” he responds. But why does it sound so wrong? That <em>is </em>all she is to him.</p><p> </p><p>Rey has made that very clear.</p><p> </p><p>“<em> Ah,” </em> Andre sighs. “Hope she won't do anything <em> too </em> horrible, <em> non? </em>  She sounds angry.”</p><p> </p><p>Yes. Rey does not sound happy. </p><p> </p><p>“Baby-mamas, I hear, are big pain here in America. <em> Mais je crois en toi, Solo! </em>” He encourages the words with a slight punch to Ben’s stiff bicep. “You are strong man.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he exhales, a sense of something much more painful, like doom, hurdling into his gut. “Baby mama…”</p><p> </p><p>Deep down, Ben wishes he had a <em> very </em>different answer for Andre. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>has the mystery been solved yet or</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0067"><h2>67. November 25th, 2019 (iv)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry it's been so long! Hoping to post more frequently again &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>“I quit my job.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia stops her finagling with the couch cushions, looking up to Ben with an expression of surprise and...relief? </p><p> </p><p>“Took you long enough,” she gruffs out, throwing a fluffed pillow.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not <em> exactly </em> the response Ben was expecting, if he’s being honest. He thought there’d be more yelling, a lecture or two, and possibly a bad-timed phone call to the <em> one </em>person who can’t know about any of this yet.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s it?”</p><p> </p><p>Leia shrugs, continuing to fluff the pillows.</p><p> </p><p>“I already knew it was going to happen sooner or later. And let me guess, you’re not going to tell Rey, are you?”</p><p> </p><p>Jesus, this woman can read him like a book.</p><p> </p><p>“No. Not yet, at least.” He rubs a hand on his eyes. This day has already been a lot. “We made a deal at lunch today. I get to see Amelia whenever you babysit. But with my current workday, and with Rey’s potential hours, that means I’ll only be able to see her for two hours a day <em> maximum</em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“And I suppose that’s not enough?”</p><p> </p><p>Ben shakes his head.</p><p> </p><p>“No. It’s not enough.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia nods in understanding, spinning and sitting against the organized pile of decorative pillows.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sure Rey would understand if you explained this all to her. It shows how willing you are to spend time with Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>He groans, knowing this is true, but-</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want Rey to think I quit my job <em> just </em>because of them. She’ll feel guilty, I know it.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben fumbles the words in the mouth; ones that he’s been trying to deny since he began interning for Snoke, over ten years ago.</p><p> </p><p>“...and I quit for me, too. Snoke didn’t give a shit about me. I doubt he <em> ever </em>did. He was turning me into...someone else. And I sat back and let him do so.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother doesn’t speak, instead opting to look him in the eyes, gaze warm and maternal.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m glad you decided to quit, Benjamin,” she finally says, “I was hoping you were going to wake up and realize it sooner or later.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wake up and realize- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It all hits Ben, just like everything else did at lunch, and even earlier, while being verbally berated by Snoke, exactly <em> what </em>he’s become over the years.</p><p> </p><p>Ben has been a monster.</p><p> </p><p>He did not speak to his mother for nearly five years. </p><p> </p><p>His dying father’s last wish was to see him. Ben never came.</p><p> </p><p>He let down Rey in almost every single way imaginable.</p><p> </p><p>And he’s been absent in his daughter’s life because Rey <em> knew </em>all of this and didn’t want another victim to fall prey to his poison. </p><p> </p><p>Ben takes in a short breath of air, physically distraught again as years and years of torment collapse his lungs and heart. It’s like grief, he idly thinks: Grief of a life he <em> could’ve </em>have had, but was stupid enough to throw away.</p><p> </p><p>But now is no time to mourn.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve pulled my 401k and transferred it all to another account,” he begins to explain, trying to distract from Leia’s words. “I can keep helping with groceries and bills because of my severance pay, but I put almost all of my savings into IRA and custodial accounts.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia titles her head in confusion. “IRA and custodial? I understand a savings account for Amelia but-”</p><p> </p><p>“Rey wants to go back to school. She told me at lunch.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia snaps her mouth shut, obviously a little thrown.</p><p> </p><p>"It won’t be for a while, and she doesn’t think she ever will, but I want her to have the opportunity, too. And if she doesn’t, then it’ll be a retirement fund.”</p><p> </p><p>His mother blinks a few times, most likely trying to take in all the information. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s a shit ton of money, Ben,” Leia breathes out. “You’re going to either have to work, or you’re selling the car.”</p><p> </p><p>He gulps. The car is part of the plan to make Rey believe that he still has a stable income.</p><p> </p><p>“I have to keep the Aston. And the suits.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben rubs the same hand against his brows again. This may be a bad idea after all.</p><p> </p><p>“What about working opposite of Rey?” Leia suggests.</p><p> </p><p>He quirks a brow. “Opposite? Like, time-wise?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. You can work somewhere either at night or the morning, that way you can be with Amelia and I all day.”</p><p> </p><p>That’s actually...a genius plan. Why didn’t he think of that?</p><p> </p><p>“But where can I work shifts like that?” Ben’s been in the corporate world for too long and never worked any kind of retail or service gig while in high school. </p><p> </p><p>Leia shrugs. “Delivery is early. Security guards work late <em>and</em> early. Maybe a stock shelving job?”</p><p> </p><p>Those all sound mundane and perfect. Because Ben doesn’t want to be focusing on work anymore. </p><p> </p><p>He’ll stock as many shelves as they damn need if it creates more time with his family. </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>Past Ben would be utterly shocked and<em> horrified </em>to ever know he’d thought such a thing.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0068"><h2>68. February 6th, 2020 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>slight TW of weight gain for a child</p><p>They talk about Amelia gaining weight and becoming somewhat chubby. It is not viewed as a bad thing.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey sits patiently at the small table, a coffee loaded with cream and sugar cradled in her hands, as Ben explains everything in a pitchy and rushed tone, fingers drumming nervously on the surface the entire time.</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Faulkner sits on the other side of the cafe, sipping on a coffee and enjoying his four scrambled eggs, bacon, toast and hashbrowns, completely preoccupied. </p><p> </p><p>“So...you’ve been working here since <em> December?” </em></p><p> </p><p>He nods. “Yeah. I’m s-sorry, again, I should have told you bu-”</p><p> </p><p>“Is this why Amelia’s cheeks have been a bit rounder, Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um. About that, yes, I <em> may </em> have had to bribe Amelia with baked goods to make sure she didn’t tell you about my new job.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey didn’t want to point anything out but Amelia <em> has </em> become significantly...rounder over the past few months. It’s not a bad thing, she’ll probably be hitting a growth spurt soon and need the calories, but Rey was <em> sure </em> she was imagining things.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently, she was not.</p><p> </p><p>“B-but we’ve been trying to take her to park as often as we can!” he mumbles out, eyes a little crazed. “I know she’s heavier since November, Leia said so too, but I make sure to run around with her, make sure she’s keeping active.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben…” she tries, noting how the crazed look is increasing.</p><p> </p><p>“The money won’t be a problem, Rey, I promise. The accounts are secure and since I’m not leasing anymore, I’m putting more into our three accounts, and I can help with any of your bills as well, because I <em> know </em>a teacher’s salary can be unfair, and maybe working with deliveries doesn’t pay much better but this was such a good opportunity-”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>“-and the guys all in the back speak French, and I thought, <em> hey, </em> it was just killing a few birds with one stone, right? Because I can learn how to communicate with Amelia better, and she loves the food and okay, maybe she loves the food a little <em> too </em>much.”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>B- </em>”</p><p> </p><p> “-I was showing her how to bake bread on Monday,” he interrupts,<em> again </em>, his breathing panicky, like death is flashing before his eyes, “that’s why I had the flour on my collar and Amelia was just too excited to knead the dough and let the secret slip-”</p><p> </p><p>“Benjamin!” Rey finally shouts. A few other diners halt their chewing and glance them a look.</p><p> </p><p>He stops immediately. </p><p> </p><p>“...yes?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not angry with you.”</p><p> </p><p>His entire face contorts, like she’s speaking another language. “You’re...not?”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head. This entire situation is overwhelming. She <em> should </em>be angry. But it all makes sense. In a Ben-sort-of-way, of course.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not happy about you lying, sure, but I get it.”</p><p> </p><p>Now he looks <em> really </em>confused. </p><p> </p><p>“You...get it,” Ben blankly repeats.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. Isn’t that what I said?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-” he gulps. Rey watches his throat bob. “I’m not sure how to respond now- I wasn’t expecting you to be so um, <em> calm. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, let’s just say the free cup of coffee is helping your case,” she says with an honest sigh. “And you were right. If you’d told me everything months ago, I <em> would </em>have felt guilty.”</p><p> </p><p>She pauses, gears moving as the reality of everything Ben has done churning through her thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>“But...you quit for yourself too. <em> And </em>for us.”</p><p> </p><p>“I did.”</p><p> </p><p>Since sitting down almost fifteen minutes ago, Rey takes the opportunity to truly <em> look </em>at the man across from her. His shirt is damp from sweat, the white of it nearly gone to the wears of working in a kitchen, his hair is messy and tangled, and his hands twiddle nervously, still covered in flour and egg.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not a Ben she recognizes.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> can </em>quit and go back to law, if you need me to, Rey. I want to buy a house soon, so that I can eventually have Amelia over, and I know it’ll be a while until she can stay with just me-”</p><p> </p><p>“Actually,” she cuts him off this time, “I think it’s going to be a <em> lot </em>sooner than later.”</p><p> </p><p>Visible excitement spreads from Ben’s eyes down to his smile when he realizes what she means.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, really?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s honestly been on the verge of letting him watch Amelia alone, judging by how well they’ve been getting along and the positive reports she gets back from Leia.</p><p> </p><p>She just needed one final push.</p><p> </p><p><em> One </em>more thing that would give Ben that permission. </p><p> </p><p>Quitting your multi-million job, dumping all your money into savings accounts for people whom you owe nothing to and starting a physically-demanding shit job in order to spend more time with your daughter who you secretly feed cake to ensure her happiness would probably be that last thing. </p><p> </p><p>“You said you’re taking her to the park right? Why don’t you start taking her by yourself?”</p><p> </p><p>His grin widens further.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes!” Ben exclaims a bit too louder, then lowers his voice again, “I think that’s a great idea!”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll talk to Leia of course, but let’s plan on that.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay. Yes. Thank you, Rey.”</p><p> </p><p>She goes to get up, Ben standing right alongside her. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you want something to-go? Another coffee?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shakes her head. </p><p> </p><p>“That’s alright Ben. The only thing I want is no more secrets. I think there’s already been too many between us for long enough.”</p><p> </p><p>He takes a breath, looking down with a slight sense of shame. Coming clean is hard, and she’s obviously respecting his ability to sit down and confess everything to her.</p><p> </p><p>It was something Rey couldn’t even do.</p><p> </p><p><em> She </em>revealed her secret while literally throwing him out the door.</p><p> </p><p>“Of course,” he says, much more warmly than before. His voice is sweet, like the sugary air.</p><p> </p><p>“No more secrets, Rey.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>"no more secrets" lol ok</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0069"><h2>69. February 11th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>YES I KNOW ITS CHAPTER 69. I GOT SEVERAL DM'S ASKING FOR SOME VERY NAUGHTY THINGS.</p><p>NOT YET.</p><p>but...perhaps...soon...</p><p>(also Damerey warning (?) on this chapter if that upsets you)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey is typically <em> very </em>good with technology. </p><p> </p><p>Scenic design requires a lot of work done digitally beforehand. Rey was never a stranger to computers growing up.</p><p> </p><p>Which is why she is currently slamming a fist on the English department’s ancient fax machine in the lounge, cursing its inability to work, while it cancels yet <em> another </em>printing project for her.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Stupid fucking thing…” </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey groans, letting her head fall forward and bang against the dusty keyboard.</p><p> </p><p>“Need some help?”</p><p> </p><p>She immediately shoots back up, startled by the sudden voice.</p><p> </p><p>It’s Mr. Dameron, one of the<em> actual </em> English teachers. He’d been the one to make her feel welcomed to their wing of the school, back when Rey felt extremely out of place, and they’ll chat every now and then.</p><p> </p><p>“Ugh, please, if you can.”</p><p> </p><p>She steps aside to let him fiddle at the buttons. He yanks out the paper drawer and begins to move around the stacks, slamming it back with a powerful arm once more beeping ensues.</p><p> </p><p>“Looks like it got jammed <em> again,</em>” Mr. Dameron groans this time. “Snap must’ve sent too many copies through. It always does this when he prints the PSATs.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey watches as the dinosaur printer <em> finally </em>starts spitting out her lesson plans. She lets out a relieved sigh and snatches one up, making sure none of the ink is smearing. </p><p> </p><p>“Thank you, Mr. Dameron!” She says to him with a smile. “I’ve been trying to get this thing to work for almost thirty minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“Mr. Dameron?” he responds back with a dark eyebrow arched. “I know the few grey hairs make me look a <em> little </em>old but…”</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t!” Rey tries to backtrack, watching as the look on his face gradually shifts. “I mean- <em> no, </em>you’re not old, and I’m sorry, I know teachers go by their first name, but I just keep...forgetting.”</p><p> </p><p>He barks out a laugh. “It’s nothing to worry about, <em> Ms. Johnson.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>Her shoulders slump in the realization that Poe Dameron was actually joking the entire time. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah...you were...okay.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey is not used to being teased.</p><p> </p><p>Actually, Rey isn’t used to <em> anyone </em>smiling and laughing with her like this.</p><p> </p><p>And when she looks back up to Poe, he’s adorning a smile that Rey has seen in too many faces: faces that approached her with a glass of champagne in <em> Le Marais</em>, faces that would tell her that her eyes were the color of honey and sugar <em> . </em></p><p> </p><p>Faces that wanted her.</p><p> </p><p>She’s already trying to fight the uprising blush.</p><p> </p><p>“D-do you typically fix the machines for everyone around here?” she mumbles out, looking anywhere but at him.</p><p> </p><p>Poe laughs again. “No. I usually don’t.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ah, fuck.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Well...thank you so much, <em> Poe. </em>You just saved my ass because class starts in,” Rey glances at her phone, “ten minutes.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m more than happy to <em> save your ass, </em>Rey.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Wow, </em>his flirting isn’t even subtle anymore. </p><p> </p><p>And God, why does she like it so much?</p><p> </p><p>Rey finally peers up through her lashes to catch the way he looks down at her. His hands are settled comfortably in the pockets of his dark jeans and his sweater is a dark auburn that completes his caramel skin tone. Lips turned up into a smile that makes Rey’s stomach do a flip.</p><p> </p><p>Because Poe Dameron<em> is </em>very attractive. </p><p> </p><p>She knew this beforehand. But shit, the more she looks-</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve been meaning to ask for a while now but...are you doing anything this Friday?” he asks, breaking her trance of ogling. “I know we’ve only run into each other a handful of times throughout the school but-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m free!” Rey blurts before she can think about it.</p><p> </p><p>Is she being asked out?</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, that’s great! How does Andre’s in downtown sound for dinner?”</p><p> </p><p>Yes.</p><p> </p><p>Yes, she is.</p><p> </p><p>Rey Johnson. Out. On a date. </p><p> </p><p>“S-sure, that sounds like a great spot.” Her blush must be so bad by now. “I’ll have to coordinate to make sure I can drop my daughter off at her grandma’s but I can give you a time then?”</p><p> </p><p>Shit, she’s rusty. Just like this goddamn copy machine. </p><p> </p><p>Poe nods, goofy smile never leaving. “Yea, yea, no worries. Take your time.”</p><p> </p><p>Her phone dings. Her class starts in five minutes.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve g-gotta go for now, but I’ll talk to you again soon?”</p><p> </p><p>“I’d like that, Ms. Johnson,” he says with a final wink and turns back to the staff entrance door. It dawns on her then that he had no actual reason to be in the staff lounge. He must have seen her struggling through the glass window and swooped in to help.</p><p> </p><p>And once Poe leaves, Rey lets out the breath she was barely holding. </p><p> </p><p>Did she really agree on a <em> date? </em> No less with a <em> coworker? </em></p><p> </p><p>But she liked it. The flirting. The way Poe smiled at her. How he came to help fix the machine without her asking just because he wanted to. </p><p> </p><p>The attention is...<em>nice.  </em></p><p> </p><p>God knows Rey doesn’t get it from any of the other men in her life.</p><p> </p><p>Sure, Ben would give her the once-over perhaps <em> too </em> frequently when they were first meeting again and he <em> did </em>buy her roses that one time.</p><p> </p><p>And yes, he's put away money not only for their daughter, but also for her, which she is eternally grateful for. But it doesn't feel <em>romantic </em>per se.</p><p> </p><p>She blames it all to the likeness of that old movie <em> Sabrina </em>, where Audrey Hepburn had come back as an entirely new person after a self-crisis, now desirable, especially to the men who used to just toss her aside.</p><p> </p><p>But unlike the movie, Ben had...stopped.</p><p> </p><p>There were no wild romantic gestures, much unlike what Linus and David did for Sabrina. </p><p> </p><p>(Then again, neither of them had impregnated her in a foreign country and Sabrina had not kept their child a secret for half a decade.)</p><p> </p><p>Besides being the father to Amelia, he plays no other role in her life. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t smirk at her like Poe does. He doesn’t compliment anything about her looks besides the obvious. </p><p> </p><p>And he most definitely does <em> not </em>ask Rey out to dinner.</p><p> </p><p>She’d already moved on when Amelia was born. Rey <em> had </em>to. Or else it was going to kill her.</p><p> </p><p>Why would it be any different now?</p><p> </p><p>Her phone begins to ring this time and Rey looks down at the time.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit!”</p><p> </p><p>Mr. Faulkner’s calling her because class starts in one minute and she’s been hovering over the copy machine, fiddling about her stupid love life and not making the run back to the auditorium. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the last thing she wants to think about when teaching a room full of sweaty, shouting fifteen year olds. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>btw bless the hearts of those who thought Poe was Finn's friend visiting France during the earlier chapter. Unfortunately, that guy was just a nameless character.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0070"><h2>70. February 11th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> Hey, I have a favor to ask you </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Yea sure, what’s up?</p><p>
  <em> sent </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> I need you to watch Amelia Friday night, 5-7 pm.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I asked your mom but she has bingo apparently??  </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I wasn’t aware she even played </em>
</p><p> </p><p>I didn’t know she played either</p><p>
  <em> sent </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Weird</p><p>
  <em> sent </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> Anyways.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> Would that be okay?  </em>
</p><p><em> I’ll make sure you have her bedtime routine and  </em> <em> I’ll cook dinner beforehand for you guys too </em></p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>I’d love to watch her.</p><p>
  <em> sent  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Wait isn’t Friday Valentine’s Day?</p><p>
  <em> Sent </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> It is? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> Oh shoot ur right </em>
</p><p> </p><p>They’re not having you work on Valentine’s Day, no less at night?</p><p>
  <em> sent  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey </p><p>
  <em> Haha no, I’d quit if they ever tried to pull that </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> I have a date </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Oh</p><p>
  <em> sent  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> Oh?  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Sorry, that wasn’t a bad ‘oh’ I’m just surprised since you’re so busy already</p><p>
  <em> sent  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Rey </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Well, it might actually work in your favor because I may need you to watch Amelia more </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey</p><p>
  <em> If everything goes well, of course </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Of course</p><p>
  <em> sent  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben locks his phone with a click and pockets it with numb fingers.</p><p> </p><p>The numbness could be from the frigid air, because Ben only brought gloves for Amelia and not for himself. </p><p> </p><p>But he knows that’s not the reason why.</p><p> </p><p>He watches as she climbs up the rock wall, screaming alongside the other children also too young to be in school, just like herself. </p><p> </p><p>Ben wants to scream too.</p><p> </p><p>At no one in particular.</p><p> </p><p>Okay, maybe at Leia because he damn well knows that she does <em> not </em>attend Bingo nights.</p><p> </p><p>And maybe at himself, too.</p><p> </p><p>The thought has been heavy on his mind for almost a month.</p><p> </p><p>Whether it was a dumb idea making a move on Rey finally.</p><p> </p><p>And in the cheesiest way. </p><p> </p><p>On Valentine’s Day.</p><p> </p><p>He certainly did not expect...someone else to beat him to the chase.</p><p> </p><p>Even though he should have.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben!!” her little voice squeals from the playground. “Swings, please!” </p><p> </p><p>He fights the frown off his face, looking up to his daughter in the most cheerful way he can muster. She doesn't need some mopey giant pushing her on the swings.</p><p> </p><p>Ben gets up from his spot at the park bench and meets her at the swingset, which is thankfully open. She hops on the left one, her favorite for no reason, and starts to kick her legs.</p><p> </p><p>“I wanna go high, kay?” Amelia asks over her shoulder. “So I can touch <em> le ciel! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” he responds back, making sure her entire butt is on the seat. She’s fallen off too many times, so he double checks now.</p><p> </p><p>“Ready?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes!”</p><p> </p><p>Her tiny voice always makes his heart patter oddly. He loves hearing how excited Amelia can get over the most mundane things. Which reminds him…</p><p> </p><p>“Before I push you, I’ve got a question for you Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>She turns back around, lips pouted.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Quoi? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“You like chocolate, right? Like, <em> just </em> chocolate. <em> Chocolat? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Oooo yeees. <em> Maman </em> used to make <em> la truffe </em>at home.”</p><p> </p><p>Well, thank god the French imported truffles he’s been hiding in his closet for two weeks aren’t going to waste. He’ll have to take all the bows and shit off the packaging before he gives it to Amelia instead.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, hang on tight then! I’m going to start pushing.”</p><p> </p><p>She shrieks in delight as Ben uses all the strength in his arms to propel Amelia vertically in the air, until she’s completely parallel with the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“Higher, higher!” she giggles and screams, delighted in the meager task he’s doing for her. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>It’s a good thing Ben can make at least one of the girls in his life laugh like this.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>😁</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0071"><h2>71. February 14th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the reactions to Poe last chapter, omg  😭😭😭</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey wakes up with an extra skip in her step.</p><p> </p><p>She can’t shake her grin when she applies her lipstick or when she helps Amelia wash her face with her washcloth.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, Rey can’t even stop smiling when Leia comes to pick them up, the day bright and hopeful.</p><p> </p><p><em> Valentine’s Day, </em>she reminds herself. </p><p> </p><p>She’s actually going out on a <em> real </em> date on Valentine’s Day.</p><p> </p><p>“You look like a cat who just got her cream,” Leia points out, looking over to Rey in the passenger seat. “Excited for your date tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods but not<em> too </em> much. Rey spent an <em> hour </em>on her updo this morning, since she’ll only get ten or fifteen minutes after work before Poe picks her up.</p><p> </p><p>“I haven’t been out to dinner with a guy in over five years. And to somewhere as nice as <em> Andre’s? </em>I had to raid my entire closet to find a dress that was formal enough to wear!”</p><p> </p><p>Leia hums back, taking in Rey’s giddiness. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry I couldn't watch her. Ben’s still good to go for babysitting tonight?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yep! Amelia’s so happy he’ll be over and it’ll be just them. <em>N'est ce pas</em>, Amelia?””</p><p> </p><p>The four year old is caught off guard, disrupted from staring at the trees from the window.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben is watching you tonight, <em> mon chou. </em>Just Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah,” she responds back, smacking her lips together. “Why?”</p><p> </p><p>“Because Leia will be busy and <em> Maman </em> is going out to dinner, remember?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia gives her a blank stare back in the mirror. “<em>Pourquoi je ne peux pas dîner avec toi? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs. She’s already explained all of this.</p><p> </p><p>“I wish I could bring you, but Maman is going with a special friend tonight, remember?” she tries gently reminding. “And Ben is<em> so </em> excited to hang out with you!”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s <em> that </em>excited?” Leia randomly chirps in.</p><p> </p><p>Rey looks back over to her, trying to pick up her tone. But it’s unreadable. </p><p> </p><p>“...yes?”</p><p> </p><p>He’s been nothing but smiles for the past few days. And although that made her heart sink in a way it shouldn’t, Rey accepted it. </p><p> </p><p>They’re both happy to have moved on.</p><p> </p><p>She assumes, of course.</p><p> </p><p>Ben didn’t question anything about the date. Didn’t ask for a name, or where they worked. Even after pestering him for the past few days, asking if he was okay with watching Amelia all by himself, he’d only say back:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Don’t worry about it, Rey.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s okay. Everything’s okay.</p><p> </p><p>Yeah.</p><p>
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</p><p>__</p><p>
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</p><p>Rey jogs back to her towards the English department after fifth period upon getting a note from one of the office runners that there was a delivery to her office. She’s holding a stack of textbooks, arms aching from rearranging the shop over the past few days, and their weight is <em> not </em>helping.</p><p> </p><p>She huffs and puffs, throwing the books down while she fiddles for her keys. It’s possible that the new supplies she’d ordered <em> weeks </em>ago for rehearsals finally showed up.</p><p> </p><p>Her door unlocks with a click and Rey isn’t welcomed to the packages she was expecting. </p><p> </p><p>Instead, a <em> huge </em>glass vase packed with lilies, roses and honeysuckles stands on her desk, right next to her laptop. There’s ornamental hearts sticking out of the bouquet, cheesy but adorable, and a pink bow wrapped around its neck. </p><p> </p><p>Rey gasps out of excitement, her hands flying up to her face.</p><p> </p><p>She quickly takes the few steps to her desk and starts turning the vase around, making sure these are truly for <em> her. </em>But there’s no note, or any kind of delivery slip included.</p><p> </p><p>Which means there’s only one person who could have sent her these flowers.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>God, </em>Poe’s such a sweetheart,” she breathes out to herself, smile nearly hurting her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>He’d been a sweetheart earlier today too, when he’d had shown up at the tail-end of second lunch, greeting her with a peck to the cheek and a box of chocolates. Rey hadn’t stopped her blush this time and he’d pointed out how utterly <em> adorable </em>she looked. </p><p> </p><p>She basks in the aroma, taking in the floral scent of the bouquet: sweet, earthy and delicate. </p><p> </p><p>No one has ever bought her flowers. </p><p> </p><p>(Okay, so Charles Sanberg <em>did</em> buy her a grocery-store bouquet in ninth grade but that was for Homecoming and Rey doesn’t count it because Charles was gay and they went as friends)</p><p> </p><p>There’s already water in the vase, which means the stems don’t need to be trimmed. Rey fights back mistiness in her eyes, so elated for dinner tonight. </p><p> </p><p>In fact, Rey is so damn happy, any worries she was having about Ben earlier poof out of existence in that very moment. </p><p> </p><p>__</p><p>
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</p><p>Leia picks her up today, since Ben had to take a longer shift at the cafe and was too tired to drive. </p><p> </p><p>But he apparently <em> wasn’t </em>tired enough to not watch Amelia, which Rey thinks is much more exhausting a task than driving five minutes. </p><p> </p><p>He’s also taking tomorrow off. He wants to take Amelia out to breakfast in the morning. </p><p> </p><p>Rey is <em> not </em>jealous.</p><p> </p><p>Nope.</p><p> </p><p>Especially when Leia spots the large bouquet Rey’s carrying, her jaw dropping.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s quite the present you got there.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey smiles, satisfied. </p><p> </p><p>“Aren’t they lovely? I can’t wait to thank Poe for them tonight!”</p><p> </p><p>She buckles in, the vase cradled in between her thighs.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben hasn’t fed Amelia any sweets today, right? If she eats too much, she won’t eat dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>Leia coughs a little, looking out the windshield rather than at her.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t think so.”</p><p> </p><p>They arrive back at the Solo-Organa house minutes later, Leia helping with the vase as Rey struggles to open the door. Leia also holds open the front door for her and immediately the sound of little footsteps running echo down the foyer.</p><p> </p><p>Unsurprisingly, there are chocolate stains on her cheeks, lips <em> and </em>nose.</p><p> </p><p>“MAMAN!” Amelia shrieks, energy surging from her sugar high.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’m gonna kill him…</em>” Rey whispers under her breath while attempting to remove her shoes without hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Oooo! Pretty!” she exclaims, going on her tippy toes to smell the bouquet. “Can I have one?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey plucks one of the roses out from the side, a pink one, and hands it down to the chocolatey hands of the four-year-old. </p><p> </p><p>“Go whack Ben with your flower, won’t you <em> mon chou? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Kay!”</p><p> </p><p>Might as well use the energy in her own favor, she supposes. </p><p> </p><p>From the living room Rey hears some grunting and then laughter from Amelia, which in turn morphs back to her high-pitch squealing. It’s probably <em> very </em>annoying for Ben. Good.</p><p> </p><p>Shoeless, she walks through the foyer and into the room where Ben sits on the couch, Amelia to his side while she continues to smack him in the face with the petals.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah! Stop! Where did you even get that from?” he cries out, trying to hold back her arms and not realizing that Rey is right in front of him.  </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Maman </em> gave me it!”</p><p> </p><p>She watches his brows lower. “Your Mam-”</p><p> </p><p>He startles and stands up immediately, eyes wide at the sight of her. But then his eyes lower, so they're looking at the bouquet she’s holding instead. </p><p> </p><p>“How-” he gulps, “How d-did you get <em> those? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey wants to rub it in even more, not caring how cruel the action might be.</p><p> </p><p>“Poe had them delivered to my office today at school.”</p><p> </p><p>His mouth opens and closes a few times. </p><p> </p><p>“Poe-?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s already distracted again, jumping on the couch and waving the rose around like a wand.</p><p> </p><p>“Poe Dameron? My date tonight.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh," he mumbles, staring down at the floor. "Sorry, I guess I never asked what his name was.”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you didn’t.”</p><p> </p><p>They stand there in silence, besides Amelia’s howling, unsure of how to resume the conversation. </p><p> </p><p>Because Ben looks like someone has just told him his childhood dog has died. </p><p> </p><p>And Rey is wearing a smug grin. </p><p> </p><p>But it’s slowly washing away the more her eyes graze his face, long and tired.</p><p> </p><p>“The water looks too low,” he finally says, gesturing to the flowers. </p><p> </p><p>Rey blinks, shakes her head, and brings the vase to eye level. “Are you sure? It looks fine to me-”</p><p> </p><p>He snatches it out of her hands before she realizes.</p><p> </p><p>“Amelia cried for you today,” he says in a low tone. “You should make sure she's okay. I'll take care of these.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben, what-”</p><p> </p><p>“Maman!” Amelia pops out of nowhere and grabs at her mother’s cardigan. “What’s for dinner? Can we have <em> croque-monsieur </em> pleeease?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sweetheart, I need to talk to Ben for a minute-”</p><p> </p><p>She turns to glimpse him walking to the kitchen. He’s digging around the center of the bouquet, like he’s fishing for something, which not only confuses Rey but angers her because he’s messing up the arrangement, and he still hasn't said a <em>single </em>damn thing about this date and Amelia keeps yanking on her-</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Amelia! </em>” she shouts. And a little too loudly. </p><p> </p><p>Because Amelia begins to tear up, her face scrunched in sorrow as her cries rattle Rey’s bones. She quickly drops to her knees and pulls her daughter into a tight hug, rubbing her back.</p><p> </p><p>“I’m so sorry, <em> mon chou, </em>I didn’t mean to yell at you like that, I’m sorry…”</p><p> </p><p>She hiccups into Rey’s shirt and grabs her around the neck.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t cry, please, you don’t want to be sad for your Valentine, right?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia lifts off of her shoulder, face red and tears tracks spanning from eye to chin.</p><p> </p><p>“V-valentine?”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oui. </em>A Valentine is someone you like or love very much and you tell them today how happy they make you. They’ll give you presents, too.”</p><p> </p><p>“Like...<em> chocolat? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” Rey smiles. “Like chocolate. And I suppose Ben has already given you <em> lots </em>of it judging by the smudges on your chin.”</p><p> </p><p>She licks a finger and goes to wipe a stain, Amelia <em> finally </em>giggling in delight again. </p><p> </p><p>The worst feeling in the world is seeing your child unhappy.</p><p> </p><p>“So...I’m his Valentine?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey could cry from the delicate way she says those words. They’re precious, elegant. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Bien sûr. </em>And I know he’ll say the same thing.”</p><p> </p><p>She sniffles a few more times, but it appears the worst part is over.</p><p> </p><p>“Can I have more chocolate then?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs, already knowing the tears are about to come back full force but for an entirely different reason. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re eating dinner in less than an hour, sweetheart. You’ll spoil your meal.”</p><p> </p><p>Like predictable clockwork, she watches as her daughter's face falls, her entire body crumpling to the carpet as the sobs start...again.</p><p> </p><p>Rey can only stand up and watch the tantrum unfold. If Ben hadn’t fed her sweets like she’d <em> asked </em>him not to, this wouldn’t be a problem.</p><p>
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</p><p>At least the irritation helps mask the intense, gut-rotting sadness that’s been building within her since Tuesday.  </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0072"><h2>72. February 14th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>How the <em> fuck </em> did he forget to cancel the fucking flower order.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Fuck, fuck, FUCK. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben still can’t stop overthinking, desperately trying to recall if he’d emailed the right person, or if he’d called the wrong number, because he can’t remember. </p><p> </p><p>The week has been a bit of a blur, to his credit.</p><p> </p><p>He sits at the coffee table across from Amelia, while they both do some drawing together. Ben had bought her that gigantic pack of crayons for Christmas, the box one that has at least four rows and every shade imaginable to the Crayola index.</p><p> </p><p>Half of them are broken but she doesn't seem to really care.</p><p> </p><p>At least drawing helps distract his thoughts. </p><p> </p><p>They sit on the carpet, since the table is too low. Amelia is doodling...something (it appears to be a pizza?) and Ben just squiggles mindless circles.</p><p> </p><p>She picks up on his dazed and concerned look. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>He blinks, eyes darting down to the adorable pouty face staring at him.</p><p> </p><p><em> Jesus, </em> Ben sometimes forgets <em> just </em>how cute his kid is.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing’s wrong. Why do you ask?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia shrugs and goes back to her coloring. “You look sad.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is he that obvious that even a four year old can tell? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not...sad. I’m just a little irritated, that’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks back up, probably not understanding some of his English.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhh...<em>mal? Fâché? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh. <em> Fâché. </em> At <em> Maman? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“No, no!” Ben quickly tries to say back, “I’m not angry at your mother at all! I’m mad at myself. <em> Pas ton Maman. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>She tilts her head slightly, which means she’s still confused, and sets down her green crayon.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you angry at the guy, too?”</p><p> </p><p>“Who, Poe? The guy we met earlier?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia nods. “<em>Maman</em> said he’s her special friend. What does that mean?”</p><p> </p><p>Ben doesn’t quite know the extent of Amelia’s knowledge regarding relationships or dating, so he’s kind of unsure what to tell her and what not to.</p><p> </p><p>“It, uh...it means that your Mom likes him more than her other friends. That’s why they’re going out to dinner with just each other, because they want to spend time together,” Ben tries explaining in the most neutral tone he can. “And no, I’m not angry at Poe.”</p><p> </p><p>Like hell he isn’t. </p><p> </p><p>He’s angry at Poe’s shit eating grin. </p><p> </p><p>He’s angry at the way Poe pressed a kiss to Rey’s rouged cheek the second he stepped through her door frame. </p><p> </p><p>He’s angry that <em> Poe </em> got to be the one to slip a hand around her waist, Ben’s fury nearly boiling over when he watched his fingers lightly graze Rey’s ass on their way out. </p><p> </p><p>And the bastard claimed a present he didn’t even <em> buy.   </em></p><p> </p><p>Poe should be lucky he didn’t reveal to Rey that it was actually <em> him </em> who bought the bouquet. They probably wouldn’t be out right now if he did.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, it could have been <em> Ben </em> taking her to Andre’s tonight in that tight, blue dress, with her hair swept into curls and wearing that raspberry-tinted lip gloss that he maybe loves a <em> little </em>too much.</p><p> </p><p>Yet...Ben didn’t say anything. </p><p> </p><p>He’d dug through those flowers and found the note, burrowed deep within the petals and leaves, and tossed it. </p><p> </p><p>Because Rey looked too happy.</p><p> </p><p>Happy that <em> Poe </em>had given her the bouquet.</p><p> </p><p>And he’s destroyed so much of her happiness already. </p><p> </p><p>“I have an idea!” Amelia suddenly blurts. She stands up and runs down the hallway, into her room. Ben can hear toys and bins crashing down onto the floor and groans, fully aware that he’ll have to clean them all up later.</p><p> </p><p>She comes running back out holding a small, red box and <em> shit </em>, Ben already knows her intentions-</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Jouons au salon, grand oreilles!” </em></p><p> </p><p>She drops the box full of hair brushes, hair elastics and those <em> painful </em>hair clip-thingies onto the coffee table with a thud.</p><p> </p><p>Ben can only sigh, staring down at his next hour of upcoming torture. </p><p> </p><p>“Can I do <em> your </em>hair this time instead?” he attempts.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia grins and reaches up, tangling her grubby hands into his locks.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Non. </em> I wanna make <em> you </em>pretty.”</p><p> </p><p>He frowns, offended. “Am I not pretty enough for you already?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia laughs and pulls at his hair. He winces but treasures each giggle. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re ugly! Like Freddie!”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffs, <em> actually </em>offended this time.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Excuse </em> me? I’ve got the face of a <em> God! </em>And now you shall feel my wrath!”</p><p> </p><p>He stands up, scooping Amelia with him and flips her completely upside down so her arms dangle. Rey would literally kill him if she witnessed this, but the four year old laughs and laughs, as she swings back and forth.</p><p> </p><p>“Mwuhahaha! How dare this mere mortal call <em> me </em>ugly!”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia shrieks in joy. “Ugly, ugly, <em> moche, moche!” </em></p><p> </p><p>And Ben laughs too, because who would’ve thought having a kid would make him so <em> weightless? </em> It’s like <em> he’s </em> the one being dangled and swung around, breathless and euphoric.</p><p> </p><p>Amelia staves the pain, like she always does.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>extra cookies to everyone who guessed last chapter right lol 🍪 🍪 🍪</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0073"><h2>73. February 14th, 2020 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>BTW your guys' reaction to chapter 71 was incredible. I've NEVER had so much attention to a fic and it's kinda nerve-wracking ngl. But I love it nonetheless!! So thank you!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Andre’s is even nicer than what Rey expected.</p><p> </p><p>They’re sat down right in front of the wine display, watching as the bottle service guy climbs on a ladder, grabbing bottles and passing them down. He’ll probably be very busy tonight. The restaurant is absolutely <em> packed </em>with other couples.</p><p> </p><p>It feels strange to consider herself one half of a <em> couple.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Going six years without a single date will do some weird shit to your psyche. </p><p> </p><p>“Want to start with an appetizer?” Poe asks over the top of his menu. He’s in a sharp, navy-colored suit that kind of clashes with the shade of blue Rey’s wearing. But she doesn't say anything. Don’t want to come off as annoying on the first date.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>“Geez,” Rey breathes out, reading over the never-ending list of options. “There’s so many things to choose from, I don’t even know where to start.”</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe with some wine?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, um. No thank you,” she replies with an awkward smile. “I don’t really drink anymore. I’ve made some rather...dramatic decisions while under the influence.”</p><p> </p><p>Poe mulls over her words for a second, obviously hesitant to ask what he’s probably wanted to ask since they left her apartment. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want to pry, and please tell me if I am, but I assume that’s how Amelia-?”</p><p> </p><p>“Uh...yeah. I like to think of Amelia as my unplanned blessing, because I don't know what I would do without her at this point, but I was <em> definitely </em>not sober when she was conceived.”</p><p> </p><p>“And the refrigerator-sized babysitter, Ben…”</p><p> </p><p>She knew the question was inevitable, but Rey was hoping Poe was going to ask in the car later and maybe not in the middle of the fucking restaurant. </p><p> </p><p>Great.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s not <em> just </em> her babysitter like I introduced him as. She, uh….” Rey fumbles, “Amelia doesn’t <em> exactly </em>know Ben’s her father.”</p><p> </p><p>Poe’s eyebrows shoot so high up his forehead, it’s almost comical.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, <em> wow. </em>That all sounds pretty intense. Is there, uh, a reason she doesn’t know? And are you two still-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>No,” </em>Rey barks perhaps too fast. “No, no, we were never...together. He’s trying to earn his spot in Amelia’s life and one of the ways to do that is through babysitter duty.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Wait, that sounds awful, a father is a parent, not a babysitter- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Not- <em> babysitter </em>duty, more like...training?” </p><p> </p><p>“He’s <em> training </em> to be a dad?”</p><p> </p><p>They’re suddenly interrupted by the waiter, breaking Rey and Poe from their conversation. She hears him order a starter of bruschetta and some sparkling water. No wine or cocktails.</p><p> </p><p>She lets him do all the talking because frankly, Rey just keeps obsessing over how terrible this date is going so far. At how her dumb, chaotic life is always going to be strange and unaccepted, and Poe must think she’s <em> insane- </em></p><p> </p><p>“Rey?”</p><p> </p><p>She blinks back to reality, noticing the waiter has left.</p><p> </p><p>“Huh?”</p><p> </p><p>“It looked like you were about to spiral there for a second.” He reaches across the table and lightly rests a tanned hand atop hers. “I’m sorry I kept asking so many private questions. It’s your life and your business, and you don’t have to explain <em> anything </em>if you don’t want to.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s pulse quickens from the unexpected touch and the unexpected kindness in his voice. Poe sounds so <em> genuine. </em>Like he’s telling the flat-honest truth. </p><p> </p><p>“O-okay,” she quietly stutters. “Why don’t we talk about something else then? Maybe about school?</p><p> </p><p>“Sure,” he smiles back, right in time for the waiter to return for the entree orders.</p><p> </p><p>___</p><p> </p><p>Rey learns a lot about Poe Dameron in the following hour.</p><p> </p><p>He’s an Aries and grew up in Texas. He wanted to be a pilot, like his mother, but suffered an injury that made him ineligible to fly. He’s taught for almost seven years now. He decided to become a high school English teacher because he, and like many other freshly-graduated English majors, wasn’t sure <em> what </em> to do with his degree.</p><p> </p><p>“Where did you attend?” Poe asks, swallowing down a bite of linguine. </p><p> </p><p>“Attend? Oh.” The question hits her. “I didn’t go to college. I’m able to teach because of the school’s alternative certification program.”</p><p> </p><p>“Do you <em>want</em> to get your degree?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shrugs. “I hope to go back maybe when Amelia’s older, but I’m still not sure. Ben put away a stupid amount of money for me and Amelia, so we could practically go wherever we want.”</p><p> </p><p>Poe stops twirling his noodles around his fork. “Ben...put away money….for <em> your </em>college degree?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, but it can also be retirement money too,” she carries on.”He put it all in this special kind of account, it’s called an...IRA? I’m not sure. But Amelia has a regular college savings account.”</p><p> </p><p>“And he’s the one who drives the Aston Martin that picks you up everyday?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey nods, piling her remaining gnocchi into the center of her plate. “Yes. I wanted to buy a car, but he wouldn’t let me because I'm saving up for a house, and neither would his mother...”</p><p> </p><p>She looks up to see Poe’s lips curled down, a brow lifted.</p><p> </p><p>“Is t-there something wrong?” Rey nervously whispers. She thought things were <em>finally</em> going pretty well. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you <em> sure </em>there’s nothing going on between you and Ben?” he asks, voice dead-serious.</p><p> </p><p>And shit, Rey can’t help but blush and she doesn’t understand why because <em> hell fucking no </em>there’s nothing happening with them. Ben can barley look her in the eye sometimes, and they’ll always begin to bicker about dumb things when it comes to Amelia, like the time he tried to give her a kid-sized motorbike for Christmas without Rey’s permission-</p><p> </p><p>“There’s nothing between us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Besides Amelia…” Poe retorts.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, besides Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>It looks like he wants to say something else but Rey doesn’t want to keep bringing up any of these matters. She loves talking about her daughter. But not like...this.</p><p> </p><p>"Oh, I wanted to tell you before I forgot,” she cheerfully says, changing the subject yet again, “the flowers you gave me today were just <em> divine </em>. No one’s bought me a bouquet before.”</p><p> </p><p><em> Ben bought you roses, </em> her brain suddenly remembers. <em> Right before you guys fought over a pan and he broke your salt shaker and you kicked him out. </em></p><p> </p><p>Poe looks dumbfounded. “Flowers…?” </p><p> </p><p>“Um, yeah- you had a bouquet delivered to me? To my office? The roses and lilies?”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Did he forget that he sent her a whole-ass bouquet? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“I only got you the chocolate...and the card,” he explains. No one’s touching their food anymore. “What flowers?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey blinks in shock. </p><p> </p><p>“You’re telling me that...wasn’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>He laughs, throwing his napkin back up onto the table. “Unless there’s another Poe Dameron in the city who thinks you’re cute too.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> This doesn’t make any sense. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, I just- the flowers didn’t have a card. So I assumed-”</p><p> </p><p>“Really?” he asks. “Usually they stick them into the center, so they don't fall out…”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> So...you’d have to dig into the flowers to find the note. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Like Ben was doing.</p><p> </p><p>Because they stick them in the center.</p><p> </p><p>So they don’t...fall out…</p><p> </p><p>“Rey? Are you okay?”</p><p> </p><p>The world around her is becoming blurry and when she looks across the table, to her date, to her fucking <em> Valentine, </em>everything begins to make too much sense but no sense at all and it feels like her pasta is fighting its way up her throat with each passing second.</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes, I’m fine, I’m just a little tired that’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>Poe obviously doesn’t believe her. “He sent you the flowers, didn’t he?” </p><p> </p><p>“He?”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben,” Poe says with a quiet smile. “Your daughter’s father.”</p><p> </p><p>“There’s no way, why would he-”</p><p> </p><p>“Rey. I didn’t want to ruin the mood, and I really, <em> really </em>do like you. But…”</p><p> </p><p>His face falls but the smile still tries to remain.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben obviously wants more than...whatever you guys are right now. It’s kind of hard not to see.”</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>There’s no way.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not t-true at <em> all </em>,” Rey suddenly spits out. Her face feels hot. “Ben only puts up with me so that he can be there for Amelia, he w-wants nothing to do with-”</p><p> </p><p>Fuck, she’s freaking out. Like seriously freaking out.</p><p> </p><p>“I think you’re in a bit of denial,” Poe softly says, grabbing her hand again. But it doesn’t feel romantic this time. It just feels like a touch of safety. “Ben looked like he wanted to fucking kill me when I shook his hand.”</p><p> </p><p>She laughs, but it’s watery. When did she start crying?</p><p> </p><p>“I j-just don’t understand, he d-didn’t say anything about the flowers o-or-”</p><p> </p><p>“Because he didn’t want to be rude, I’m guessing,” he answers. “And he didn’t want to break bro code, either.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey wipes a hand under her eyes, attempting to save some of her makeup.</p><p> </p><p>“P-Poe, I’m so sorry that this is all happening-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Rey. </em> Don’t apologize. I was lucky enough to take you out to dinner tonight. I just want you to be happy.”</p><p> </p><p>Happy.</p><p> </p><p>Would she even <em> be </em>happy with Ben?</p><p> </p><p>Poe could be wrong. This could all be a misunderstanding. </p><p> </p><p>She could be the fool.</p><p> </p><p>Again.</p><p> </p><p>“Thank you,” she sniffles out, smiling. “I feel bad, so l-let me get the check-”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, <em> hell no </em>,” he laughs back, grabbing the leather folder before she can. “I feel partially responsible for making you cry, plus it’s still Valentine's Day. I think I’d get cursed for seven years if I let you pay.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey laughs back even though it feels like her lungs are burning.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve never heard of <em> that </em>curse before.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s plenty of curses Rey <em>does </em>knows of. Walking under an open ladder. Cracking a mirror. Whistling at night.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>But falling in love with Ben Solo may have been the worst curse of them all.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yuh</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0074"><h2>74. March 28th, 2008</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Spring comes super early this year.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not usually until late April or May when the sun starts peaking through the clouds, the days no longer wet and dreary. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey sits outside with her few friends. They eat lunch together on one of lunch tables they hardly get to use.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jimmy and Tanya are talking about the newest <em>Panic! At the Disco</em> song, while her other friends eat and doodle weird shit on their notebooks. It’s a pretty typical lunch period for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey!” Tanya calls out over to her. She stops mid-bite of a sandwich. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know Thomas, from calc?’</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. He’s cute. Kinda dumb. “Sure. What about him?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tanya giggles and Jimmy elbows her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He told me he wants to ask you to Junior Prom, but wanted to know if you had a date already.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey stops her chewing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Really? </span>
  </em>
  <span>He hardly talks to me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tanya leans forward, so that she’s only a breath away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thomas says you’ve got a nice ass. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Plus, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he thinks you’re cute. And chill.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey coughs out of surprise. “Yeah, </span>
  <em>
    <span>right. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He’s just another horny guy. Who cares?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tanya shrugs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thought maybe you’d like to go with him, that’s all. You’ve rejected like- six guys this year </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So? Maybe I don’t<em> want</em> to date.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her friend scoffs. “Like hell you don’t want to. You bitch all the time about wanting to go on double dates, or when everyone else got Valentine’s chocolate and </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey gulps. Tanya is right.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whatever. I’ll...think about it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She squeals, grabbing one of Rey’s hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I knew you’d come around! You haven’t been to a dance in forever and now you can go to prom with us and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>look like a loser!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey tries to play the hurt off with a sarcastic laugh, and it must work because everyone goes back to lunch a second later and nobody brings Thomas or Rey’s pathetic dating life back up.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And...she lied to Tanya.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s doesn’t have to think about it. She wouldn’t say yes even if Thomas put on some big, dumb charade in front of the whole school. Plus, only the </span>
  <em>
    <span>preps </span>
  </em>
  <span>do shit like that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because saying yes to Thomas feels wrong.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And it </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey wants to have fun. She <em>wants</em> a date for Prom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Not Thomas. That would be too easy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No one else. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey only ever wants what she’ll never have.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0075"><h2>75. February 14th, 2020 (iv)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Possibly triggering content regarding consent &amp; communication in this chapter. Please read end note if needed.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben should have known better to let Amelia nap on the couch.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Is it even considered a nap if she fell asleep thirty minutes before bedtime? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Shit, she hasn’t brushed her teeth either. Or gone pee. </p><p> </p><p>So much for following the bedtime routine. </p><p> </p><p>Ben lifts her from the couch cushions, making sure that her head is cradled in his elbow, and carries her down the hall to her bedroom. Like he suspected, it’s an absolute mess of toys and paper. Her Jason mask hangs idly on one of the bedposts, untouched for a few days now.</p><p> </p><p>And that’s good. Ben loves seeing Amelia’s face as much as he can.</p><p> </p><p>After tucking her in, with his t-shirt thankfully doubling as pajamas already, Ben sets off to the main bathroom to begin the careful process of removing the many, <em> many </em>accessories littered throughout his hair. </p><p> </p><p>He makes a nice pile of barrettes, ties and butterfly clips: a pile of pain.</p><p> </p><p>They all get dumped back into the hair box. Ben didn’t clean Amelia’s room, but he doubts Rey will honestly care.</p><p> </p><p>She’s got better things to think about now, rather than Ben or his child care skills.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not like he was ever worth a second thought, anyways.</p><p> </p><p>Ben sits on the couch, waiting, and hears the door unlock at seven fifteen. But only one voice follows. </p><p> </p><p>Which seems...odd. </p><p> </p><p>Although an asshole, Poe doesn’t seem like the kind of man to not walk his date to her door.</p><p> </p><p>It makes Ben hate him even more.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben?” she calls through the kitchen and into the living room. “How’s Am-”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s in bed,” he responds back, maybe a bit too harshly. “She fell asleep earlier on the couch.”</p><p> </p><p>Her heels clack until they reach the carpet, and Ben can only tell she’s in the room by that specific sound because he stares down at a stained patch of the drywall, rather than her.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t dare look at Rey. At what he will never deserve. She’s like the sun. He <em> wants </em> to stare, like they did as children, but he <em> knows </em>it’ll end the same way it always did:</p><p> </p><p>Rolling around the grass, clenching their eye sockets, and the both of them crying.</p><p> </p><p>“Is...something wrong?”</p><p> </p><p>Her tone is timid and warbling. He hates how concerned she sounds. Because it isn’t real.</p><p> </p><p>“Not at all,” Ben lies, standing up from the couch. “Thanks for letting me watch her. I hope you and Poe had a great time.”</p><p> </p><p>Uncharacteristically, Rey does not snap back with a sarcastic laugh. Or an insult. </p><p> </p><p>Her silence is the ultimate reason why he finally dares to look.</p><p> </p><p>When she comes into view, Rey’s staring up at him, eyes wide and mascara-coated tear tracks running down both sides of her face.</p><p> </p><p>And Ben’s first, guttural reaction is, surprisingly-</p><p> </p><p>“What the <em> fuck </em>happened at dinner, Rey?”</p><p> </p><p>Anger. </p><p> </p><p>He snarls the words so deeply that she takes a step back in shock.</p><p> </p><p>“Jesus, Ben…” she whispers, backing away slowly. “Nothing happened-”</p><p> </p><p>“What did Poe do to you? Did he hurt you? Do I need to call the authorities?”</p><p> </p><p>Her eyes blow even wider. And they’re becoming glossy the more Ben threatens. </p><p> </p><p>If Poe laid just <em> one </em> ill-intentioned finger on Rey...he seriously <em> will </em>kill him.</p><p> </p><p>Even if that puts him in jail for a couple of years, and away from Rey and Amelia, Ben will know it’d been worth it.</p><p> </p><p>“Poe did nothing!” she spits out. “I had a <em> wonderful </em>time with him.”</p><p> </p><p>He scoffs. “Then why the <em> hell </em>were you crying?”</p><p> </p><p>And <em> shit </em>, that came out of his mouth way harsher than he intended because Rey’s in actual shock now, her mouth dropped open and tears dripping off her chin.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I’m crying b-because of the f-”</p><p> </p><p>But she stops herself short, right on the cusp of whatever she was going to say.</p><p> </p><p>And Ben can hardly stand to be in the same room anymore because he fears that his frustration is going to make him say even <em> worse </em> things than he already has to the woman he loves. To the woman who doesn’t deserve to be dragged down to <em> his </em>level of patheticness. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll come at nine tomorrow,” Ben flatly speaks, brushing past Rey. “Don’t forget to lock the door after I leave.”</p><p> </p><p>The pain is indescribable, leaving Rey like this. </p><p> </p><p>But she isn’t crying about Poe or about the date. Rey is only crying because of <em> him. </em></p><p> </p><p>So if removes himself from the equation, surely the tears will stop.</p><p> </p><p>“Why didn't you tell me?” she mutters into the air. </p><p> </p><p>Ben stops, slowly turning back around to face her.</p><p> </p><p>She must have figured out the flowers were from him, not Poe.</p><p> </p><p>And now she's probably confused as hell.</p><p> </p><p>“Look, if this is about the bouquet I sent, you can just keep pretending it was from Poe,” he sighs, the words like poison on his tongue. “I just thought it would have been a nice gift for the mother of my child, that’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s a fucking lie. Ben bought that bouquet for the woman he honestly wants to spend the rest of his life with.</p><p> </p><p>Who also happens to be the mother of his daughter.</p><p> </p><p>But if Rey’s truly happy with Poe...or with anyone besides him…</p><p> </p><p>Then he’ll continue to lie.</p><p> </p><p>He turns back around, ready to throw on his jacket and shoes, and go home where he can sleep another night dreaming about nothing but her.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben, wait-”</p><p> </p><p>He feels her fingers grab the back of his shirt and Ben freezes.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s...not the t-truth, is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“You said no more secrets, Rey,” he spits out, trying to pull away.</p><p> </p><p>But she doesn’t let go. Instead, her other hand joins the one already at his back, and then he feels her arms wrap around his torso, her face pressed into between his shoulder blades, shirt soaking up the fresh tears.</p><p> </p><p>If this was any other moment, any at all, Ben would be jumping for joy that Rey is holding him.</p><p> </p><p>“My date was awful,” she whispers, muffled into the fabric.</p><p> </p><p>His breathing all but stops, heart suddenly racing. “W-what-?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re right. No more secrets,” he hears her sniffle. “I l-lied. And I think you’re lying, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben can’t feel his fingers. Or his toes. He’s the one now in shock, because why would Rey even bother with <em> him? </em> He’s caused nothing but pain and sorrow. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia is probably the only good thing Ben has ever given her.</p><p> </p><p>He wishes he could give Rey the world.</p><p> </p><p>Getting her to stop crying would be a good way to perhaps start on that wish. </p><p> </p><p>"I did lie," he tells her, grabbing her hands, so vastly smaller than his, and peeling them away from his chest. "I wanted to be the one taking you to dinner, Rey. I-I wanted it so bad, that it <em>hurt.</em>"</p><p> </p><p>From there, he’s able to twist his torso just enough to reach and cup her head, his neck craning down so that there’s no space separating them anymore.</p><p> </p><p>He kisses her with hesitation, because even if her date went badly, it doesn't automatically mean she's in love with <em>him.</em></p><p> </p><p>She squeaks a little, not kissing him back in what he prays is sheer surprise. But when his other hand wraps around her waist and he presses her entire body to his, relishing it the warmth that only <em> Rey </em>radiates, she moans and sinks into the kiss, her arms wrapping delicately around his neck.</p><p> </p><p>He could cry from the relief. </p><p> </p><p>Ben can’t really remember what it was like kissing her in Paris. </p><p> </p><p>But he sure as hell is <em> never </em>going to forget the sensation now.</p><p> </p><p>The sensation of Rey’s mouth opening, the way she searches for his tongue desperately, sends Ben into an animalistic mindset. Before he knows it, he’s reaching past her waist and around to her thighs, lifting her onto his hips with another squeak because he needs her closer; closer than physical touch can provide. </p><p> </p><p>Without a single word, Ben starts stumbling towards her room, hoping that his assumptions are right.</p><p> </p><p>And they must be, because Rey continues kissing him deeper and deeper the closer they walk towards her door, no words of hesitation leaving the mouths that devour each other.  </p><p> </p><p>They’re not drunk on wine this time.</p><p> </p><p>No.</p><p> </p><p>Instead this time, they’re drunk on each other.</p><p> </p><p>Knowing that Rey wants him too, after the months of longing and pain- it’s better than any kind of booze. </p><p> </p><p>He holds her tight and lowers them both onto her bed. He can feel her hands start to pull at his shirt, obviously wanting it off. Ben leans away from her touch to quickly yank it up and over his head, then immediately re-captures her lips again, fingers ripping the spaghetti straps that graze her perfect, soft shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>“P-please,” she whispers up to him between kisses, helping him peel the dress off. “So long- I’ve w-wanted-”</p><p> </p><p>He pulls the thin, blue fabric down her body so fast, Ben thinks he tore a seam. </p><p> </p><p>His lips focus on a trail down her chest and stomach, tongue dancing over a scar that spans from her bellybutton to her pelvic bone. It causes his heart to briefly sink, knowing what misery she's gone through, all while completely alone.</p><p> </p><p>As Ben kneads her bare breasts, Rey begins to moan. They grow exponentially louder as Ben mouths at her panties, also just a scrap of satin, and is extremely thankful at this moment that Amelia is a sound sleeper.</p><p> </p><p>It<em> also</em> hits him that-</p><p> </p><p>“I d-don’t have any protection.”</p><p> </p><p>She sits up, trembling and blinking slowly. </p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay- it’s f-fine-” Rey says, gulping. “I’m on the p-pill.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinks. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Y-yes<em>. </em>Can you s-stop talking now and get back to work?”</p><p> </p><p>Chuckling, he lowers his mouth back down, pulls aside the front of her thong, and licks a hot stripe up her entire cunt.</p><p> </p><p>She shouts into her hand.</p><p> </p><p>Rey lets him eat her out until she’s shaking and sobbing now from pleasure, and begging him for more.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you sure?” he asks. He’s only a second away from completely pushing into her and the heat is making him dizzy.</p><p> </p><p>But Rey never answers his question.</p><p> </p><p>Instead, her hands tug the belt loops on the pants he still wears, her hips raising to meet him and <em> fuck, </em> she feels so good that he damns it all to hell and thrusts in completely without Rey giving him any sort of <em>actual </em>verbal confirmation , awareness prickling in the back of his mind that doing so <em> maybe </em> isn’t the best idea.</p><p> </p><p>But Ben ignores the thought. He has something much more important to focus on:</p><p> </p><p>Making Rey scream.</p><p> </p><p>He fucks her into the mattress, her hands tangled in his hair, her cries quiet in his ear. It’s so good, <em> so, so </em>good, holding Rey in his arms, listening to the sounds of their skin slapping like music.</p><p> </p><p>It’s a literal dream come true.</p><p> </p><p>They don’t last long. Longer than last time definitely, but not as long as Ben wishes. Her orgasm is soft and exhilarating, the waves of her pleasure helping push him off the ledge as well.</p><p> </p><p>He comes inside her again, too. </p><p> </p><p>Ben glances over to Rey’s alarm clock in a post-orgasm haze and notes that the time is only eight thirty. He wants nothing more to go a second, or possibly a third round, but he’s getting old, if thirty-three counts as <em> old. </em></p><p> </p><p>He flops to the other side of her bed, an arm still wrapped tightly around her waist and wanting nothing more than to fall asleep with Rey's naked back against his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He’s still wearing <em> jeans </em>and doesn’t care, that’s how tired he is.</p><p> </p><p>“I need to check-” she sighs sleepily, “I need to check on Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>“She’s fine, Rey.” The arm around her waist keeps her pinned to the bed. “Stay with me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben-”</p><p> </p><p>He pulls her closer, reaching for the comforter and draping it over them.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t leave me again. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>She tenses at his words. </p><p> </p><p>And it makes him wonder.</p><p> </p><p>What <em> would </em>have happened if Rey had stayed the night in his hotel, all those years ago?</p><p> </p><p>Would he have remembered her?</p><p> </p><p>Or if she had never lied in the first place?</p><p> </p><p>Would he have fallen in love in the past rather than the present?</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Rey whispers, grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll stay.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>And she does.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>TW / SUMMARY</p><p>Rey does not give verbal confirmation when they have sex. Everything is 100% consensual, but it is bad communication (or lack there of).</p><p>A/N The scar on Rey's stomach is not a C-section scar. Wanted to clarify this due to a few questions. It will be explained later, but it is due to the condition of Amelia's birth.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0076"><h2>76. February 15th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello! Thank you all again for the amazing readership on this fic! It blows my mind everyday. </p><p>There's some art to be featured! </p><p>@WRD_tlaft made this <a href="https://twitter.com/WRD_tlaft/status/1370494551123693569?s=20">super cute and hilarious art</a> of Ben and Amelia's playdate!</p><p>And I drew this wallpaper-esuqe piece of <a href="https://twitter.com/dachenabritta/status/1371531858119323648?s=20">Amelia and Rey</a></p><p>CW/ There are mentions of unprotected sex, birth control, infertility and plan b. Also, body fluids are part of this chapter. Spoiler version of this warning is in end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> Warmth. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>It’s the first thing Rey notices when she wakes up. </p><p> </p><p>Warmth and her cheek pressed against skin that is not her own or Amelia’s.</p><p> </p><p>Smacking her lips, she groggily raises her neck to realize that the skin belongs to Ben's muscular and broad back, one that Rey was drooling on only a moment ago. </p><p> </p><p>It takes her a minute to get her bearings. And it must be super early because the sun hasn’t risen yet.</p><p> </p><p>But when Rey does awaken enough to realize what exactly she- <em> they </em>did last night, conflicting feelings begin to brew. Ones that she completely ignored last night.</p><p> </p><p>Actually, Rey ignored <em> everything </em>her mind screamed last night.</p><p> </p><p>Every warning. Every doubt.</p><p> </p><p>They were all lost to the feeling of Ben <em> finally wanting her. </em></p><p> </p><p>God, she was even stupid enough to let him come in her. Again.</p><p> </p><p>And desperate enough that she’d lied and said she was on birth control. </p><p> </p><p>Rey thought she’d learned her lesson years ago.</p><p> </p><p>Apparently not.</p><p> </p><p>Ben snores peacefully, hair splayed across his face and a few pieces stuck in his mouth. She reaches over and brushes it all away with gentle fingers, the same pain that struck her all those years ago in Paris, striking her again.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Why? </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em>Why</em> does something inside her still rot and melt away, looking at him like this?</p><p> </p><p>For God’s sake, the day before she’d been all too happy to go on a date with Poe. But the second she’d thought Ben may have feelings for her, she dumped poor Poe in a snap.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t rise or move when she gets out of bed, still stark naked, and shivering. Rey’s quick to grab a bathrobe and tiptoe to the tiny apartment’s only bathroom. </p><p> </p><p>Rey<em> should </em> be happy. Ben wants her. He wants to take her out to dinner. He quite literally swept her off her feet.</p><p> </p><p>Hell, Ben may even <em> love </em>her. </p><p> </p><p><em> But does he actually love you? </em> The voice within her whispers, while Rey stares at her darkened reflection. <em> Or is he infatuated with the idea of you?  </em></p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t flip the lights on. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> I need to go to the drugstore as soon as possible. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Even though the chances of anything <em> actually </em>happening are close to ze-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Ma-maman…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia's little, panicked cry is enough to make Rey’s blood freeze. It’s too early for her to be awake. <em> Way </em>too early.</p><p> </p><p>Fear causes Rey to fly out of the bathroom and across the hall, pushing open Amelia’s door and flipping on her lamp before thinking twice about how loud and frantic she’s being.</p><p> </p><p>There sits Amelia in the middle of her twin-sized bed, crying and with her thumb stuck in her mouth. She only sucks her thumb when she’s seriously scared or anxious.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas? </em> ” Rey asks, bending down at the side of her bed. “What’s going on, <em> mon chou?” </em></p><p> </p><p>Amelia mumbles out a word but it’s not understandable. </p><p> </p><p>“What’s-”</p><p> </p><p>Rey leans in closer to wipe away her tears but immediately recoils when a strong, sour smell comes from under her blankets.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit,” she mutters to herself, pulling the covers away to find Amelia has wet not only the entire bed, but has completely drenched the back of her shirt and some of her hair, too.</p><p> </p><p><em> “D-Désolé, Maman,” </em>Amelia whispers. </p><p> </p><p>She thinks she’s in trouble for wetting the bed.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s okay, baby, it’s going to be okay-” Rey lifts her out of the bed, her shirt dripping. She hasn’t called Amelia <em> baby </em> since she was well, <em> a baby. </em>Because that’s the last time she wet the bed. And she hasn’t since then.</p><p> </p><p>She rushes them into the bathroom and flicks on the light. They both blink and cringe at the sudden brightness, but Rey continues to the bathtub, turning the knobs and testing the temperature. Amelia smells downright <em> awful.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Setting her down, Rey helps her take off the pee-soaked clothes and dumps them into the sink. She’s going to have to wash the sheets <em> and </em>the mattress, too. </p><p> </p><p>They’re all problems for later. </p><p> </p><p>Rey sheds her robe, which is wet now, and lifts them both into the tub. </p><p> </p><p>The tub is filling fast but not fast enough. She tries to scoop as much warm water onto Amelia’s shivering body as she can, shivering herself too from the cool, morning air.</p><p> </p><p>“When did you wet the bed, baby?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia hiccups. “I d-don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>So, she was just sitting there in her piss for what could have possibly been <em> hours? </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey should have<em> fucking </em>checked on Amelia last night. She should have listened to her gut, the same one that told her to get up and make sure Amelia had gone pee before bed.</p><p> </p><p>But no. She’d stayed with Ben because he was warm and he’d asked. <em> Nicely. </em></p><p> </p><p>Pathetic. </p><p> </p><p>“Why didn’t you come wake me up? <em> As-tu fait pipi avant de te coucher?” </em></p><p> </p><p>She shrugs, still shivering. <em> “F-froid.” </em></p><p> </p><p>The water spout is loud and Rey’s too focused on getting Amelia’s tears to stop. She doesn’t hear the footsteps from her bedroom, nor the light knock at the door. </p><p> </p><p>But she sure as hell <em> does </em> notice when Ben enters the bathroom, shucking his underwear and completely unaware that Rey is <em> not </em>alone. </p><p> </p><p>“Why are you taking a bath at five am, Rey?” He purrs, rubbing the sleep from his face. “And without m-”</p><p> </p><p>Ben stops, eyes wide as he stares at <em> both </em>Rey and Amelia through the glass doors.</p><p> </p><p>“O-oh, fuck!” </p><p> </p><p>“Get out!” Rey nearly screams, covering Amelia’s eyes with a wet palm. “Now!”</p><p> </p><p>He backs towards the door, chin ducking low, and a hand out in defense. “S-sorry! I thought you were taking a s-shower and you want-”</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Out!”  </em></p><p> </p><p>She does scream that time. </p><p> </p><p>He obeys her command, the door slamming behind him. Rey removes her hand shielding Amelia’s eyes away, and she doesn’t <em> think </em> she saw anything. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Quoi-? </em>” the four-year-old asks, obviously confused. “Is that Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>“Um, yes,” Rey responds, voice low. “He won’t come back in, don’t worry. It’ll just be you and me, okay <em> mon chou? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>But Amelia doesn’t say anything back. She just allows her mother to wash her body and hair, her teeth no longer chattering. </p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t say anything when Rey hoists them both out of the tub and dries them with the big, fluffy white towel. </p><p> </p><p>“This wasn’t your fault, Amelia.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia shakes her head.</p><p> </p><p>“Please don’t blame yourself, <em> mon chou </em>, this happens to lots of ki-”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s wrong,” she mutters. “I’m sad be-because…”</p><p> </p><p>Her tears return, hot and dripping silently down her cheeks. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t wanna have me and <em> Maman. </em> I want B-Ben, too. <em>Et</em> Leia.”</p><p> </p><p>She must have thought Rey was talking about forever. </p><p> </p><p>“Don’t worry, Ben will-”</p><p> </p><p>But Rey stops. Because she <em> doesn’t </em>know if Ben will stay. He says he wants to. Anyone with a good set of eyes could tell you that he loves his daughter. Many of his actions have spoke louder than any words could. </p><p> </p><p>Is it worth it to love him and risk breaking <em> both </em>their hearts if their relationship fails? </p><p> </p><p>Or is it safer to allow him to be a father without the strings of a relationship tying him down?</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>What if being with Ben destroys <em> everything?  </em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>CW/ SPOILER VERSION </p><p>Rey lied to Ben about being on BC and needs to buy Plan B. But she doesn't think the situation is as severe due to possibility of infertility. Amelia wets the bed in this chapter, and it's discussed in detail. It gets into her clothes and hair as well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0077"><h2>77. May 29th, 2019</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone, I am posting this today due to the concern in both the comments and also my DMs on Twitter. I was planning on posting this tomorrow, but I think it needs to be up asap.</p><p>Also I do not condone any of Rey's behavior from last chapter, just like how I do not condone any of Ben's previous behavior.</p><p>CW/ Discussions of infertility, doctors, treatment, and a hospital visit.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey’s foot taps insistently against the floor as the only doctor of Vézelay, Dr. Gaillard, reviews her file. Amelia sits on the chair across from her, completely engrossed in her Christmas coloring book.</p><p> </p><p>She reads it over a few times, hums and then looks back up to Rey.</p><p> </p><p>“What are the conditions you’ve been having of late?” she asks in French.</p><p> </p><p>“Some dizziness and soreness,” Rey responds, also in French. “And my period hasn’t come for two months.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm. Let me take a quick look, okay?”</p><p> </p><p>She leans down onto the table, the paper crinkling below her. The doctor prods at her stomach, then brings a stethoscope down near the scar.</p><p> </p><p>“These symptoms are common with uterine rupture, especially since it’s been nearly four years since your daughter was born.”</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Gaillard would remember. She was the one who found Rey on the kitchen floor in a pool of her own blood. </p><p> </p><p>“The doctors in Saint-Père performed a successful surgery to your uterus wall, so you <em>shouldn't</em> be having problems. But it is possible that your hormones are being affected by the internal scar tissue.”</p><p> </p><p>“What does that mean?” Rey asks, concern growing.</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Gaillard sighs. “It means your ability to conceive is now lower than four percent, based off of your previous condition and your ongoing symptoms.”</p><p> </p><p>“But...I thought you said it would never drop below thirty percent?”</p><p> </p><p>The doctor doesn't answer, instead opting to look through the file folder a few more times.</p><p> </p><p>“Mademoiselle Johnson, are you looking to conceive again?”</p><p> </p><p>The question rattles her bones. It’s a thought that's always in the back of her head. Especially when she watches Amelia play by herself. Or when Rey remembers how desperate she was for a brother or sister when she was a child.</p><p> </p><p>She <em>does </em>want a half-sibling for Amelia. </p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m not sure. My daughter wasn’t exactly…” she leans in to whisper, making sure Amelia can’t hear, “<em>planned. </em>But I do want her to have siblings someday, I suppose.”</p><p> </p><p>“If you want her to have siblings <em>ever</em>, you are going to need to start treatment.”</p><p> </p><p>“Treatment?” Rey blinks in shock. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes. And the longer you wait, the less likely it will be for you to have a second child. It can be difficult, but worth it if you want the pain and discomfort to stop, too.”</p><p> </p><p>The symptoms haven’t been horrible. And they’re not necessarily life-threatening. Rey is glad to hear that they’re <em> not, </em>but the thought of becoming infertile…</p><p> </p><p>“Do you think I could get treatment and also take care of her while doing so?” Rey asks, nodding to Amelia, who’s coloring a snowman green and purple.</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Gaillard shrugs. “Depends on how invasive they’ll need to be. And you’ll have to travel south to the hospital in Lyon, where they specialize in reproduction therapy.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey only nods back in understanding.</p><p> </p><p>They leave the tiny clinic hand-in-hand, Rey’s thoughts going absolutely haywire.</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t want to risk anything.</p><p> </p><p>But she can’t take care of Amelia <em> and </em>get treatment.</p><p> </p><p>And Lyon is too far away.</p><p> </p><p>The idea of asking Finn to come down and help is tempting, but last time they’d called, he was planning a shoot in Kyoto, and is going to be in Japan for at least a month.</p><p> </p><p>And it’s not like Rey has any other coworkers that she was particularly close to before she left Paris. </p><p> </p><p>But what if something worse was to happen to her? Something that would leave her completely unable to care of her daughter?</p><p> </p><p>There’s only one other person she would trust with Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>And that person doesn’t even <em> know </em>about her existence.</p><p> </p><p>Rey takes a shaky breath and grips her little hand just a tad tighter.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>It looks like Amelia will be meeting her grandmother much sooner than she thought.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N</p><p>I hope this clears up any confusion. Rey is not infertile. But could be if she lets her condition worsen. Uterine rupture is very unlikely, but the chances skyrocket if someone is not properly taken care of during delivery, like Rey was. You can read more about uterine rupture <a href="https://www.merckmanuals.com/professional/gynecology-and-obstetrics/abnormalities-and-complications-of-labor-and-delivery/uterine-rupture#:~:text=Uterine%20rupture%20is%20spontaneous%20tearing,have%20had%20prior%20cesarean%20deliveries.">here.</a></p><p>I am also adding a tag regarding infertility. Treatment will be discussed and only shown veeery briefly, if that icks you. </p><p>Personally, I have been dealing with infertility conditions since I was 15 and my mother tried for 10 years to conceive me. So writing about this is very difficult, but realistic in this scenario. It was also always the plan. See chapter 54 and chapter 58 where this was hinted at.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0078"><h2>78. February 15th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you all for being so understanding about the previous two chapters and sticking with this story, even if it's become difficult to get through. (Lord knows it was a never an easy one lol)</p><p> <br/>CW/ mention of birth control, panic attack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Amelia asks for a loaf of bread after her bath.</p><p> </p><p>Rey is too exhausted to say no.</p><p> </p><p>She plops her down at the dining table, dressed in her warmest flannel pajamas, her hair wrapped in a towel and an entire loaf of white bread placed close enough for her short arms to reach in and grab slice after slice.</p><p> </p><p>Ben walks into the kitchen, thankfully dressed this time.</p><p> </p><p>“How do you work the washer?” he asks, thumb pointed towards the laundry closet. “I, uh, stripped the sheets, but I don’t want to break anything.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey places a quick kiss to Amelia’s cheek and rises to follow him to the washer.</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll just do it, it’s okay.”</p><p> </p><p>She walks right past him, ignoring his panicked and sullen expression. </p><p> </p><p>Rey almost feels numb. It’s odd. She doesn’t know why.</p><p> </p><p>She checks that Ben hasn't forgotten the detergent and turns a few knobs to begin the washing cycle. He stands directly behind her, watching and learning.</p><p> </p><p>Like he always does. </p><p> </p><p>“Did you follow the bedtime routine that I left on the counter last night, Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t turn around to address him. But she does hear him sigh. And it’s the only answer Rey needs.</p><p> </p><p>“Sorry,” Ben groans. “Amelia just looked <em> so </em> comfortable on the couch and-” </p><p> </p><p>He must realize now, too.</p><p> </p><p>“She didn’t brush her teeth before going to bed. Or...go to the bathroom.”</p><p> </p><p>Well. </p><p> </p><p>At least <em> that </em>mystery is solved.</p><p> </p><p>“Im sorry, Rey,” he starts rambling, “I knew I should have followed the list but I was...I was so <em> mad </em>and then when you came home-”</p><p> </p><p>“Ben. It’s my fault too.”</p><p> </p><p>She turns around, eyes pointed to the laminate floor below their bare feet.</p><p> </p><p>“I should have listened to my gut and checked on her before we went to sleep-”</p><p> </p><p>“But <em> I </em>told you not to. The blame is entirely on me.”</p><p> </p><p>And<em> oh </em>, how easy would it be to say it was? She’s been blaming Ben for so much over so many years, most of it deserved. And some of it...not.</p><p> </p><p>“And I’m sorry for walking in on you two. I hope Amelia didn’t...see anything she shouldn’t have,” he laughs out a bit. </p><p> </p><p>But Rey does not laugh with him.</p><p> </p><p>Because she realizes in that very moment something that <em> should </em>have been obvious years ago.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s both of us,” she whispers, the words coming to awful fruition. “We shouldn’t- we <em> can’t </em> do this.”</p><p> </p><p>He physically recoils, breath caught short. “W-what? Like, I can’t stay overnight anymore or-?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shakes her head. </p><p> </p><p>The washing machine hums behind them, low and rhythmic. </p><p> </p><p>“You know what I mean, Ben.”</p><p> </p><p>“Clearly I <em> don’t </em>,” he quickly responds, anxiety coating his voice. “And you’re kind of freaking me out right now. What’s wrong? Is this because we didn’t talk before-”</p><p> </p><p>She looks up to him; to the source of her life-long joy and agony.</p><p> </p><p>To the only man she’s ever hated. </p><p> </p><p>And loved.</p><p> </p><p>“We can’t be together. E-Ever.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben takes a solemn breath, trying to comprehend her words.</p><p> </p><p>“I thought-” he chokes, “I t-thought we were finally happy. That you wanted me, and I wanted you.”</p><p> </p><p>“And look what happened. Amelia wet the bed because we were too distracted with each other. There’s never been a middle ground for us. We either don’t speak for a decade and hate each other or we’re fucking and ignoring everything around us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Rey, you <em> have </em> to give us a chance,” he all but begs. “I want us to be a family more than you could possibly imagine. We <em>can</em> be together and still be good parents. I u-understand your fears, but we can work on it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Work on <em> what, </em>Ben?”</p><p> </p><p>He grabs her hands softly, cradling them to his chest.</p><p> </p><p>“Trust. We need to <em> trust </em>each other. No more secrets. No more lies. No more hiding away things because we’re scared.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey breaks at his words and his touch. The guilt from what she’d done last night becomes a blaring alarm in her mind.</p><p> </p><p>And he’s right.</p><p> </p><p>She can’t keep lying to him, desperation and fear be damned.</p><p> </p><p>“I-I lied,” Rey whispers before it kills her. “I’m not on birth control.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben blanches and becomes paler than she thought possible for someone of his complexion.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>What? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not on birth control.”</p><p> </p><p>He blinks a few times, eyes looking anywhere but her.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey, <em> shit </em>- You just can’t do that,” he stutters. “How would you feel if I had lied to you? O-or if there was another accident?”</p><p> </p><p>It feels like a bucket of cold water has been dumped over her head.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Accident?” </em> she interrupts. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, you <em> know </em> that not what I meant- I’m mean <em> technically </em>that’s what she is-”</p><p> </p><p>“Is that what Amelia is to you?” Rey asks, ripping her hands from his. “Just some big accident?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s her worst fear. That Ben was only doing all of this, wanting to be a devoted father and now devoted partner, just so he could fix one of his countless mistakes made throughout his life.</p><p> </p><p>Because that's all they are to him, isn't it?</p><p> </p><p>Just another mistake to fix. </p><p> </p><p>“No, of fucking course not, <em> what- </em>” </p><p> </p><p>He’s frazzled beyond belief now, hands running through his hair while she just cowers below him, tears beginning to drip down her face.</p><p> </p><p>“You wouldn’t even <em> be </em>here if you hadn’t come along to that stupid dinner, or i-if you hadn’t been home early that day-”</p><p> </p><p>“Rey-”</p><p> </p><p>She releases a laugh but it’s more of a sob rather than anything humorous. </p><p> </p><p>“You had the perfect fucking life. Money, a good job, a nice penthouse. Why the hell would you bother with <em> us </em> if it wasn't because you felt guilty? What was it you said at <em>San Juan's?  </em>That you wanted to be a 'better man'? Or <em>whatever</em> bullshit you said to fool me.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben backs her up until her back is pressed against the washer, his hands locked to either side of her head, leaving Rey trapped.</p><p> </p><p>“Have you ever considered that I’m doing this because I genuinely <em> care </em>about you two? </p><p> </p><p>Trapped.</p><p> </p><p>That’s all Ben has ever done to her, isn’t it?</p><p> </p><p>Trapped her in the form of an unrequited adolescent crush.</p><p> </p><p>Trapped her in a world where she had to hide away his own <em> daughter.  </em></p><p> </p><p>And now he’s trapping her in this delusive reality he’s created where they’ll be a big, loving family and live happily ever after. </p><p> </p><p>It makes her sick.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Well,</em>” she ducks under his arm, sneering, “since you apparently care so much, your <em> accident </em> is currently in the kitchen eating bread, scared shitless because her fucking <em> father </em> couldn’t follow basic instructions I left him and pissed her bed the first time in three ye-”</p><p> </p><p>Rey stops mid-sentence, gapping at the four-year-old who’s standing only a few steps away from them both, eyes wide in shock and bag of bread dropped to the floor.</p><p> </p><p>Shit.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She must have heard- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“F-father?” Amelia squeaks, “doesn’t that mean <em> Papa? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey quickly crouches in front of her, picking up the bread. But she doesn’t take it.</p><p> </p><p>“It does, <em> mon chou. </em>We were just- uh, talking about him coming to see you. That’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>She hears him scoff behind her and chooses to ignore him.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s all? <em> Tout? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey can’t risk Amelia knowing Ben’s her father, especially right now. They’re currently in the middle of a fight. What if he gets so pissed, he leaves forever after this? Then what?</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. <em> C’est tout. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia grabs the bread from her hands and <em> hurls </em>it to the ground.</p><p> </p><p>“I d-don’t <em> want </em> my <em>Papa</em> <em> ! ” </em> She screams, hot tears glittering her eyes. “ <em> Il n'est rien!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey cups her cheeks and tries to calm the incoming tantrum. “Ameli-”</p><p> </p><p>“NO! I w-want-”</p><p> </p><p>She sniffles, then slaps away her mother’s hands.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Je veux Ben, Maman! </em> Why can’t Ben be my <em> Papa?! </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Rey takes in a shuddering breath, completely shocked and unsure what to say.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Mon chou, </em>h-hold on-”</p><p> </p><p>But her pleas are forgotten as Amelia flees the room, rounding the corner and sobbing. Ben goes to follow her, because he really is a good fucking father and Rey can only sit on the floor with her head in her hands, the tears back and fresh, salty as they drip into her mouth. </p><p> </p><p>She’s been so guarded. So scared. </p><p> </p><p>Rey thought she was protecting them. </p><p> </p><p>Protecting their hearts by closing them, locking them up and throwing away the key.</p><p> </p><p>Ben hasn’t trapped her. </p><p> </p><p>No. </p><p> </p><p>She’s trapped herself. </p><p> </p><p>The walls of the tiny apartment are now a cage and suddenly Rey can’t breathe or think and <em> fuck- </em> it might be another panic attack, but she never knows, all she knows is she needs air and she needs it <em> now. </em></p><p> </p><p>She runs down the hall to the front door, unable to hear Ben or Amelia or the click of the lock as she steps foot out to the dusky air, <em> still </em>unable to take a deep enough breath.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Maybe if she- </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Her brain is a flurry of Amelia’s cries and Ben’s words, her entire world caving in quicker and quicker as Rey rushes down the concrete stairs, the cold nearly freezing her tears as they fall down her face. She runs through the parking lot, past Ben’s car that picks her up every damn day because he <em> does </em> care for her, and she was too afraid to ever admit it, the ground becoming sharp and painful to her numbing feet as Rey hits the road and continues to sprint, running from the mess they've created, that s <em> he's </em> created. She thinks she hears Ben’s voice, but it’s so far away and echoey and nothing matters anymore because she can feel her knees go weak, her body collapsing into the concrete and grass as the tears that she’s become too familiar with over the years don’t stop, because they <em> never </em>stop- and it feels like they never will.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0079"><h2>79. August 9th, 1997 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey sits in the time-out corner, sniffling and watching as bits of her hair fall onto her knees and toes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Mommy is on the phone talking to Dad. She’s in the other room, her voice muffled as Mommy yells about her new haircut.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kindergarten starts really soon. And Mommy is upset that she’ll look even </span>
  <em>
    <span>more </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a boy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s gonna have to wear </span>
  <em>
    <span>dresses. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The thought makes Rey want to cry even harder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she’s afraid Mommy’s gonna spank her too, because she’s so angry. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spanking scares her more than anything in the world. Rey can still hear her voice, still far enough away that she thinks she can run out of the living room and go through the front door. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Saving up as much strength as she can muster, she stands up, brushes the hair off her legs and </span>
  <em>
    <span>sprints </span>
  </em>
  <span>down the hall and to the blue door, unlocking it and running down the stony path. She doesn’t hear Mommy call after her even when she rounds the side, headed towards the backyard, and she doesn’t hear anything when Rey climbs through the hole in the brown fence, the perfect size for her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Rey </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>yelp when her feet suddenly walk on something super poky. And painful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thorns, she realizes. She’s stepping into a massive blackberry bush. And only then does she finally hear Mommy, calling for her over the balcony of their backyard. But she still sounds more angry than anything else. Not sad that she's run away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It just makes Rey hide further into the bush, not caring about the cuts or blood running down her arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There, she cowers by herself. Scared about what Mommy will say when she finds her. Scared about wearing those horrible, itchy dresses. Scared that </span>
  <em>
    <span>no one </span>
  </em>
  <span>will find her until the police and firefighters find her years later, but she’s only a skull and some bones, like the scary movie Dad accidentally showed that one time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey buries her face into her knees and cries quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she sits there for what feels like an eternity until she suddenly hears something shuffle closer to her and she’s looking up at a boy much older than her, his dark eyes wide in surprise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” he asks, tone soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His ears are so big they stick out from his black hair. It makes Rey feel better for some reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she doesn’t respond, he offers a hand. “Here, I’ll help you out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s not supposed to talk to strangers but for some reason, she doesn’t care right now. She likes how warm and gentle his eyes are. How concerned he looks when Mommy was mean. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And what Rey likes most of all is how he stares at her, but not in the way the other neighborhood kids do. Like she’s not just some pest they have to deal with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With some reluctance, Rey grabs the boy’s hand and lets him lift her completely from the bushes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t look <em>down</em> at her at all, she realizes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This boy looks at her like she’s something precious. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I miss writing them as babies aww 😭</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0080"><h2>80. February 15th, 2020 (iii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note the updated tag.</p><p>CW/ panic attack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Ben’s trying his best to console a sobbing Amelia when he thinks he hears the front door slam shut.</p><p> </p><p>It could be just his panicked and confused brain making shit up, but the apartment grows eerily silent. He can only hear Amelia sniffle against his shirt. But not Rey. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t want to leave her alone so Ben picks up Amelia and continues rocking her, nearly slipping on the hair towel that she’d thrown off her head in the midst of her fury, and rushes out to the closet to find nobody there. </p><p> </p><p>Rey isn’t in the kitchen or her room either. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey?” he echoes through the apartment. </p><p> </p><p>No answer. </p><p> </p><p>Maybe the front door <em> did </em>open and she’s outside cooling off. </p><p> </p><p>It’s unlocked when he turns it.</p><p> </p><p>Ben can feel his heart start to pick up speed when he pushes the door open and doesn’t immediately see her on the balcony.</p><p> </p><p>His bare feet step onto the freezing concrete, Amelia shivering as they walk outside since her hair is still damp. Overlooking the edge, he finally spots Rey.</p><p> </p><p>She’s running down the road.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> She is running down the road- </em>
</p><p> </p><p><em> “Rey!” </em>he screams to her, not caring about how early it is. “Rey, stop!”</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t even look back.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Shit-”  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Ben hurries back inside, debating on whether or not he should chase after Rey while still holding onto Amelia. But <em> that </em> debate quickly ends when her little hands refuse to let go of their death grip on his shirt, fisted so tightly she could rip the thin cotton.  </p><p> </p><p>With his free arm, Ben grabs Amelia’s puffer jacket off the coat rack and slips into his boots.</p><p> </p><p><em> "Qu'est-ce qui se passe?” </em> she asks when he wraps the jacket around her like a blanket. “Where’s <em> Maman?” </em></p><p> </p><p>“She’s going to come back, don’t worry.”</p><p> </p><p>Her nose scrunches and sniffles, like she’s trying to decide whether to believe him or not.</p><p> </p><p>Ben flies out of the apartment, holding Amelia as physically close as he can to ensure she’s not too jolted as he straight-up <em> sprints </em> down the stairs and across the parking lot.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey!” he yells again, finally catching up to her. She’s shoeless. And her legs are slowing their insistent speed.</p><p> </p><p>Is she running away from <em>him?</em> Is he going to make things worse by chasing after her? </p><p> </p><p>"Rey, wait!"</p><p> </p><p>Then, her legs completely give out.</p><p> </p><p>Ben watches helplessly as her knees buckle and she falls thankfully sideways onto the spongy grass, rather than the cold, hard asphalt.</p><p> </p><p>He keeps running. And running. And running.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t begin to slow down until Rey’s only ten steps or so away, and Ben drops to his own knees next to her. Poor Amelia is utterly lost as to what’s happening, her cries completely stopped.</p><p> </p><p>Rey, on the other hand, is staring off into the trees, tears dripping down her pale face.</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, it’s okay, we’re here,” he says to her, scooping Rey off the grass with his right arm. “Everything’s going to be fine-”</p><p> </p><p>She’s not responding to him, like last time.</p><p> </p><p>Which means Rey is having a panic attack.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Rey.” </em> He shakes her a little. Just by the shoulders. </p><p> </p><p>She just keeps crying.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Maman?” </em> Amelia squeaks out. She’s been watching everything. </p><p> </p><p>She crawls out of Ben’s arm and moves slowly down to her mother, until the little girl is climbing into her lap and resting her head on Rey’s heaving chest, like a kitten. </p><p> </p><p><em> “J-je suis désolé, Maman,” </em>Amelia sniffles. </p><p> </p><p>Her quiet words must pull at whatever stream of consciousness still runs through Rey, because she brings a hand up to her daughter's head and begins to stroke her dark, tangled curls.</p><p> </p><p>“N-no-” she finally stutters to the sun-rising sky, “it’s <em> Maman’s </em> fault, <em> mon chou. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>Her voice is lower than a whisper. But it’s better than her being dazed out and unresponsive. </p><p> </p><p>All of his fury, his anger; it's quickly washed away when Rey blinks and looks him in the eyes. They feel wet and warm. Misty.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben?” </p><p> </p><p>“You scared the <em> hell </em> out of me,” he breathes out, relieved. “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is-”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m o-okay.” She grips onto Amelia tighter. “I’m okay now, I p-promise.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben looks up and around, the reality of where they are suddenly hitting him.</p><p> </p><p>He's on the side of a main road cradling a limp, sobbing Rey while <em>Rey</em> holds a tear-stained Amelia.</p><p> </p><p>Anyone who drives past them is going to get quite the eye-full.  </p><p> </p><p>But he doesn’t give a shit.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s go back home, alright? <em> Here-” </em></p><p> </p><p>With the newfound dead-lifting skills Ben’s acquired since working at the bakery, he lifts <em> both </em>Rey and Amelia, cradled within each other like nesting dolls.</p><p> </p><p>They both startle, unsurprisingly. </p><p> </p><p>“B-Ben," she struggles, trying to free herself, "you don’t have to carry us, I can walk-”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” he admits. “But I <em> want </em>to.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey stops, realizing that Ben is <em>not </em>going to let her down, even if she fights tooth and nail.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” she surrenders, albeit <em>slowly</em>, bundling closer into his chest.</p><p> </p><p>He thanks the bags upon bags of flour, sugar and yeast for his ability to carry both of them all the way back to the complex and up the stairs. Sure, it feels like his arms are going to fall off a couple times, but it doesn’t matter.</p><p> </p><p>All that matters to Ben right now is for the two of them to be safe.</p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t think about the awful things that flew out of their mouths when he kicks open the cracked front door. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn’t think about Rey's lies or his careless words when he nudges off his shoes and walks them down the hallway to the bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>And Ben <em> especially </em>doesn’t think about how they will never be his; that all of this is just a desperate dream when he sets Rey and Amelia into the bed, bringing the blanket up to their chins to help stop the teeth clattering.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you need anything else?” he asks them. Rey only shakes her head. Amelia’s is buried in her mother’s chest, puffer jacket still on and eyes closed.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Ben sighs. He moves away from the bed to grab his forgotten socks. “I’ll just use the spare key on top of the frame to lock the door.”</p><p> </p><p>“The door…?”</p><p> </p><p>He turns, brow creased. “Yes?”</p><p> </p><p>She only watches him with her mouth open, eyebrows also bent. Like she’s not sure what he’s doing.</p><p> </p><p>“B-but, the bed…”</p><p> </p><p>His eyes flicker to the open spot, the place where he slept last night, Rey tangled in his arms, their bodies perfectly molded against each other in a way he could never imagine.</p><p> </p><p>“What about the bed?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey gulps and rises off the pillow.</p><p> </p><p>“Why aren’t y-you in it?”</p><p> </p><p>His entire world stops there and then, breath completely leaving him in a final exhale. </p><p> </p><p>It’s the same desperation in her eyes too. </p><p> </p><p>Wordlessly, he steps to the other side of the bed, lifts the covers and buries himself into the comfort and pleasure of <em> home.  </em></p><p> </p><p>He stays planted on his side, Amelia’s jacket barely brushing his chest.</p><p> </p><p>Right out of reach.</p><p> </p><p>It isn’t until Rey scoots them both towards the middle, tears returning, and she watches Ben do the same, his arm cautiously wrapping around her waist, pulling them closer.</p><p> </p><p>He waits a minute for her to tell him off. </p><p> </p><p>She never does.</p><p> </p><p>Ben brings them even closer, Amelia wedged between her parents, exhausted and already half-asleep. </p><p> </p><p>He holds them both, so small and fragile. They lay together, Amelia’s hair damp and cold, Rey’s tears soaking the pillow, and his own tears dripping into her hair, which still has some grass and dirt littered throughout it.</p><p> </p><p>They’re a mess. There’s no denying that.</p><p> </p><p>What they <em> need </em>to do is talk. And maybe see a therapist.</p><p> </p><p>But all Ben <em>wants </em>right now is to pretend. To pretend that they're a<em> real</em> family, if only for this moment, nestled in his arms and protected from the pain, lies and hurt that threaten to disrupt this unattainable fantasy. </p><p> </p><p>He doesn't loosen his grip on Rey’s waist, afraid. </p><p> </p><p>Terrified that if he lets them out of his sight even for a <em> second, </em> they’ll disappear forever this time.</p><p> </p><p>Ben feels his own eyelids grow heavy after the adrenaline has washed away. Amelia snores, sound asleep. Rey’s back rises and falls slowly, her snoring much quieter than their daughter’s whistled breathing.</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>A mess, indeed. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0081"><h2>81. April 2nd, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hello everyone! I hope you've survived the past couple chapters alright. :D We have the art that I commissioned El! You can check out the supermarket scene from chapter 45 <a href="https://twitter.com/dachenabritta/status/1378183122123034625">here.</a></p><p>CW for mentions of infertility, medication, medical talk (no actual doctor/hospital visit)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p><em> “Ameeeliiaa! </em> We’ve gotta go!<em>” </em></p><p> </p><p>It’s a nice day, considering Spring is typically pretty cold. Amelia is in one of Ben’s white work shirts, instead of the typical <em> Hell’s Rising </em> or <em> Slasher </em> ones she prefers. And there’s a reason for that.</p><p> </p><p>Rey looks down into Leia’s backyard to watch her daughter quite literally rolling around in the grass. The t-shirt is down-right <em> filthy.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Just a few more minutes, <em> Maman!</em>” Amelia cries, rolling up onto her knees.<em>“S'il te plaît!” </em></p><p> </p><p>Rey taps her foot, crosses her arms and raises a brow. </p><p> </p><p>“Nope. I’m already late. And <em> you </em>need a bath.”</p><p> </p><p>She watches as the little girl groans and flops dramatically onto the grass, faking a loud wail. Rey thought the terrible two’s were...well, <em> terrible. </em>But Amelia’s been more and more of a booger recently; not listening, talking back, the whole ordeal. </p><p> </p><p>She hates to say it, but Amelia has been by definition, <em> a brat. </em></p><p> </p><p>The garage door slams shut from inside the house and Rey <em> knows </em>she’s for sure going to be late now. Looks like Ben will have to be giving her a bath today.</p><p> </p><p>And of course <em> Ben </em>won’t have a problem wrangling his daughter because…</p><p> </p><p>“Amelia!”</p><p> </p><p>She perks up immediately at the sound of his voice and the back door opening, fake tears completely gone and a grin adoring her face instead. </p><p> </p><p><em> “Papa!” </em>she squeals, breaking out into a sprint, running across the grass and up the stairs. </p><p> </p><p>Rey turns around only for a brief minute to quickly exchange a look to Ben. He’s in a well-fitted black shirt and dark blue jeans that hang loose on his waist. And normally, this would be a mouth-watering sight. </p><p> </p><p>But her daily clomiphene citrate pills have since demolished any kind of sex drive or lust-ridden thoughts that <em> used </em>to haunt her fantasies. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia jumps into his arms when Ben squats down to pick her up. </p><p> </p><p>“Sorry I’m late,” he tells them both. “I was waiting for a lumber delivery and they were delayed.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shrugs. It’s not like they’re necessarily on time either. “No worries. Amelia’s not really ready to go anyways.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben shifts his arms a bit so he can get a better glance at her mud-streaked shirt.</p><p> </p><p>“Ah. Yeah. Were you at least having fun?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia nods her head, black curls bouncing. “<em>Oui! </em>I eat a bug, too!”</p><p> </p><p>The adults try not to gag as she laughs. At her age, they were doing the same thing. Doesn’t mean it’s any less gross.</p><p> </p><p>They all walk back into Leia’s house and up to Rey’s room. It’s been a tad weird and it's temporary, but overall <em> much </em>better living with Leia instead of that cramped apartment. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia was basically already living here, given how much time she spends with her grandmother.</p><p> </p><p>“Do you still have her bath stuff at your place?” Rey asks over her shoulder. She’s rummaging through the clean laundry for some extra clothes to pack, since Amelia’s track record for spoiled outfits this week is absurd. </p><p> </p><p>“The purple bag right?”</p><p> </p><p>“With the stars on the side.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I still have it.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey nods, makes a pile and swiftly moves next door to Amelia’s room which so happens to be Ben’s childhood room. There’s a few spots on the wall where it’s obvious spackling has been plastered over fist-sized holes. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s Barbie suitcase sits on the bed and she unzips it to squeeze in the few extra shirts. It’s beautifully contradicting the black comforter and black bed sheets, all leftovers from Ben’s adolescence that Amelia had <em> insisted </em>on having.</p><p> </p><p>She’d<em> also </em>insisted on Ben’s old band posters, his lava lamp, his broken speakers and his PS2 that plugs into absolutely nothing. </p><p> </p><p>Decorating day was a little nuts, to say the least.</p><p> </p><p>“Here’s her bag,” she says, handing it off to Ben who still holds the wriggling four-year-old in one large arm. “My appointment is right after work, so you can call me either before or after, but your mother will have her phone on the entire time.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben nods. This has all been a growing routine for several weeks now. With everything changing so much, it feels good to have some consistency. </p><p> </p><p>“Are you excited to make dinner with<em> Papa </em> tonight, Amelia?” Rey asks as they head down the stairs. Her chin rests on his shoulder, perfectly relaxed and staring up at her mother with a pleased expression. </p><p> </p><p>“<em>Oui,” </em>she hums, choosing to nuzzle back into her father’s neck.</p><p> </p><p>A twang of envy pangs in her heart. Ben’s been getting nothing but <em> Angel </em>-Amelia for the past couple of months. </p><p> </p><p>And Rey?</p><p> </p><p>Well, <em> Rey’s </em> getting the <em> breadcrumbs </em>of Amelia’s niceness at this point. </p><p> </p><p>She knows that the hormones and medication can make her grumpy or tired. And getting pricked and tested every week does not do good things for one’s mood. There’s a reason Amelia has been spending more and more time with her <em> Papa. </em></p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be sure to text you some photos of our pizza tonight,” Ben tells her, setting down Amelia so she can roll her suitcase by herself. “But I can’t promise we’ll have any leftovers by Sunday night.”</p><p> </p><p>He chuckles, ruffling Amelia’s mop of hair. </p><p> </p><p>“I think I’ll survive,” Rey laughs alongside him. </p><p> </p><p>They stand there kind of awkwardly for a moment, unsure how to continue their conversation, the squeaking of Amelia’s suitcase echoing in the dining room as she zooms around the hardwood floor. </p><p> </p><p>“So...I guess we should get going then?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey blinks, moving her eyes away from Ben’s face. “Uh, yeah. I’ve got to be at work soon.”</p><p> </p><p>She bends down and stops Amelia right in her tracks. </p><p> </p><p>“Be good this weekend, okay <em>mon chou?</em> <em>Maman tu vas beaucoup me manquer.</em>”</p><p> </p><p>The little booger has the audacity to <em> groan.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“I’m<em> always </em> good,” she huffs. “Just ask <em> Papa </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey swears her eye twitches in that very moment. Only slightly.</p><p> </p><p>“Just...” she sighs, standing back up and rubbing at her temple. “I’m going to be late. Have a nice weekend you two.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben makes some kind of sound, but is distracted as Amelia breezes right past them and to the garage door, beckoning for her father to follow. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey-” he starts, half-following, “You know she doesn’t mean-”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> know</em>,” she groans. It’s a phase. The last three months have done nothing but put a strain on their relationship. </p><p> </p><p>At this rate, teenage Amelia is going to be a <em> demon.  </em></p><p> </p><p>Ben knows better than to poke at problems, so he only nods and gives her a quick peck to the cheek before Rey hears the garage door open and then close a few minutes later.</p><p> </p><p>She rubs at the spot where his lips met her skin, trying to savor the bit of warmness Ben’s given her. </p><p> </p><p>It’s a warmness that Rey<em> could </em> have all the time, whenever she wanted it. </p><p> </p><p><em> Maybe after my treatment is over, </em>she tells herself, packing up her bag for the school day. </p><p> </p><p><em> Maybe when Amelia starts school and we’d have more time, </em>she tells herself, riding quietly in the car as Leia drives in an understanding silence. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Or maybe when I’ll allow my family to be my family without me being scared shitless at the very concept.  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>But Rey can only sulk at <em> that </em>thought. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Before you comment "chaney, WTF?" please note the date! This fic is flash-back frequent.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0082"><h2>82. February 15th, 2020 (iv)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm so behind on comments that it's not even funny. I'm going to try and answer lots more this week!!</p><p> </p><p>CW/ Slight mention of Plan B, doctors</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <em> “...fine if I don’t take it…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia flops around in her Maman’s giant bed, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. It’s bright. Maman and Ben aren’t in the bed with her anymore. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...sure? I can go get it for you right now…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She remembers falling asleep wedged in between them, happy and warm. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “No. It could do more harm than good for my condition…just looked it up...” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Their voices are loud, even though she’s sure they’re all the way in la cuisiner. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “...maybe we should go to a doctor…” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>She feels like a zombie when rolling out of the sheets and onto the floor, yawning and rubbing an eye as she stalks down the hallway to find them. </p><p> </p><p>“...the likelihood is so low, there’s almost no chance-”</p><p> </p><p>Grandes oreilles is the first one to spot her at the edge of the kitchen. Him and Maman are sitting at the table, drinking the icky brown stuff they like. Maman’s face is red and puffy. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia!” he exclaims, jumping out of his seat to go to her. “When did you wake up?”</p><p> </p><p>She shrugs but smiles. She always loves how quick Ben is to come see her.</p><p> </p><p>“Je sais pas.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks at Maman, then back to her. “We're still going to get breakfast today, just like I promised, but your Mom has a surprise for you.”</p><p> </p><p>She perks up immediately. “Surprise? Un cadeau?”</p><p> </p><p>Maman rubs a hand over her eyes, then looks over to her.</p><p> </p><p>“On va aller rencontrer ton Papa,” she says, “and I’m coming with you guys, too.”</p><p> </p><p>Before Amelia jumps for joy though, she looks back at Ben. She already told Maman that she does <em> not </em>want her Papa. Amelia only wants grandes oreilles. </p><p> </p><p>“But-” she points up at the giant. “What about Ben, Maman? Won’t he be sad?”</p><p> </p><p>The grown-ups <em> laugh, </em>causing Amelia to frown. What’s funny about what she said?</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he tells her, scooping her up into his arms.</p><p> </p><p>But Amelia isn’t sure about anything anymore by the time she’s buckled into her seat and staring at the window. She watches the trees and clouds breeze by, and imagines human-sized grenouilles are chasing after Ben’s car. Maybe when they go home, she'll draw them for Ben.</p><p> </p><p>She’s gonna give them flame-red skin too. And they can spit fire.</p><p> </p><p>Maman holds her hand as they walk into the busy restaurant, Amelia insisting on the booth near the pictures of the la Tour Eiffel. She remembers seeing it when she was younger one summer. It reminds her of home. Maman says the same thing.</p><p> </p><p>“This is where you get the bread, right?” she asks Ben, kicking her legs under the table and breathing in the delicious scent of petit déjeuner.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” he laughs, “literally <em> and </em>figuratively.”</p><p> </p><p>Maman laughs a bit too, and Amelia doesn’t understand why, yet again. Grown-ups think the strangest things are funny.</p><p> </p><p>So there’s only one logical conclusion as to why they’re both giggling at what <em> Amelia </em> has said. </p><p> </p><p>“Stop laughing at me!”</p><p> </p><p>She turns and buries her face into Ben’s arm, embarrassed. Maman sits across from them and reaches an arm over to rub her back. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re not laughing at you, mon chou. <em> Bread </em> in English can also mean <em> money. </em>L’argent. You made a joke and didn’t even realize it.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia peeks back out to see her Maman with a soft smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh.”</p><p> </p><p>“I work here,” Ben says down to her, “this is the job I come home from everyday and bring the desserts from. And since I work, I get money. Does that make sense?”</p><p> </p><p>Not really. Amelia always thought <em> work </em> was just grown-up school that they were forced to go to after they got too big. And Maman still goes to school anyways. </p><p> </p><p>“Your Papa works here, too.”</p><p> </p><p>She looks back over to Maman with wide eyes. “Really?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oui.”</p><p> </p><p>But before Amelia can start looking around the bakery searching for him, a man comes up to the table and starts asking Ben and Maman some questions. </p><p> </p><p>He asks Ben in English, but Maman speaks French back to him.</p><p> </p><p>Which could mean…</p><p> </p><p>“Es-tu mon Papa?” she almost yells, standing up on the booth seat. The man looks kind of old and his hair is really light, not like hers. And he now looks super confused.</p><p> </p><p>“Uhhh. Désolé, mademoiselle," he answers back with a quirked eyebrow. "Mais je n'ai pas d'enfants.”</p><p> </p><p>Her butt thumps back onto the seat in defeat. It was worth a try at least.</p><p> </p><p>“Ben...” she hears the man say, “is that not-?”</p><p> </p><p>“We’ll just split two benedicts this morning,” grand oreilles strangely interrupts. “Merci, Alec.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s still down in the dumps to look back up. She wants a coloring page and crayons. </p><p> </p><p>Ben wraps an arm around her and brings her closer. “Don’t be upset, Amelia. That was a good guess. But your Papa is actually pretty bad at French since he’s still learning.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s not very nice to say…” Amelia whispers under her breath, looking back out to the other people eating. Nobody seems to hear her.</p><p> </p><p>“He has very dark hair,” Maman pipes out from across the table. “And his skin is pale, like yours.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia huffs, eyes still on the lookout. A few men have black hair. But they’re with kids already. And plenty of others are pale. </p><p> </p><p>The same man returns with a cup du jus d'orange which she is more than happy to gulp down. Whenever she watches someone new come out from behind the counter, Amelia follows every step to see if they would match the things Maman said. But none of them do. </p><p> </p><p>After what feels like years of searching for her Papa, Amelia gives up.</p><p> </p><p>Her head thuds into the backrest and she ignores both Maman and Ben. They try to encourage her, telling Amelia to look around a bit more and a bit closer. </p><p> </p><p>And <em> very </em>unlike Amelia, the hot, steaming food is set down right in front of her and she doesn’t even lift a hand to start digging in.</p><p> </p><p>“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Ben tries saying, pushing it closer.</p><p> </p><p>It does. But there’s other thoughts on her mind.</p><p> </p><p>If her Papa really<em> does</em> love her, why hasn’t he come to their table and said so? Or why can’t he just disappear forever so Maman can marry Ben instead and <em> he </em>can be her Papa? </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia, can you <em> please </em>just try some of the sauce?” Ben picks up a fork and offers her a taste of jaune sauce. “I think you’ll like it.”</p><p> </p><p>But she violently shakes her head. <em> NO. </em>If Maman and Ben want to be mean, she can too.</p><p> </p><p>“Rey, I think-”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we should.” Maman sighs. “I thought she’d be able to guess but…”</p><p> </p><p>She leans down on the table so that her eyes are level with Amelia’s.</p><p> </p><p>“What if I told you your Papa is sitting next to you, right now. Would you eat then?”</p><p> </p><p>She wipes a tear off her face with her shirt sleeve, utterly confused. </p><p> </p><p>“But..." Amelia sniffles. "<em> Ben </em>is sitting next to me.”</p><p> </p><p>Maman smiles but her lip quivers at the same time.</p><p> </p><p>“Yep.”</p><p> </p><p>Her entire heart stops thumping, then and there.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Vraiment? </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, Amelia,” Ben says, smiling and looking relieved. “I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time and your Maman thought you deserved to know, since you were so unhappy this morning.”</p><p> </p><p>Oh yeah. She’d thrown a fit this morning about meeting her Papa. It’s been a long day. She’d forgotten about all that already.</p><p> </p><p>“B-Ben is-?”</p><p> </p><p>They both nod again. Maman looks like she’s going to cry again. </p><p> </p><p>She seems to be doing that a lot more now.</p><p> </p><p>And the realization <em> actually </em>hits Amelia. Ben is her Papa. She doesn’t have to find him or wait for him. He’s here and he’s been here for a while, playing with her, bringing her pasties, and pushing her on the swings. </p><p> </p><p>“He’s my P-”</p><p> </p><p>Her words don’t get much farther because Amelia can feel the sobs burn up her throat. Happy sobs, that she wails into Ben’s shirt, her <em> Papa’s </em>shirt, crying harder than she feels like she’s cried ever before. There's so many questions she has, things that don't make a whole lot of sense, but she doesn't care.</p><p> </p><p>Because her wish came true. After begging every night and <em> maybe </em> sometimes every morning to Père Noël, it really came <em> true. </em></p><p> </p><p>The food sits on the table, completely forgotten. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Just a heads up, there will be several chapters upcoming that will be NSFW. I'm still trying to determine if I need to put a warning, since this fic <i>is</i> rated E. But let me know if you would prefer warnings!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0083"><h2>83. February 22nd, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>We have some more wonderful art! @tarzelladraws created both a <a href="https://twitter.com/tarzelladraws/status/1380371481947860999?s=20">digital drawing</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/tarzelladraws/status/1379510959853641728?s=20">a sketch</a><br/>of Amelia in her Jason mask and Slayer shirt :D</p><p>NOTE </p><p>This chapter deals with therapy and Rey refers to the therapist as a "shrink".</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey’s never been to a shrink before. </p><p> </p><p>It’s not like she doesn’t believe in them or anything. Therapists can do great things for those who <em> need </em>them. </p><p> </p><p>Rey doesn’t need a therapist.</p><p> </p><p>It’s what she argues to Ben over the period of a week; after her panic attack, after she ran out of the apartment, after she finally told Amelia the truth. </p><p> </p><p>She’ll be okay. Rey’s survived worse. And will endure more. A shrink isn’t going to change that. </p><p> </p><p>Especially not a <em> family </em>therapist. </p><p> </p><p>She’s an old friend of Leia’s. Her name is Dr. Erso. Her practice is located on the other side of town, where the three of them have packed into Ben’s car (albeit with some hesitance on her part) and drove to. Amelia talks to Ben the whole way over, chatting about the most random things and asking questions of no relevance. </p><p> </p><p>Rey suspects it’s only so she can call him <em> Papa </em>at any chance she can get.</p><p> </p><p>They sit on the crammed couch, Amelia in the middle, Rey and Ben elbowing the arm rests. For an office that speaciliazes on multiple people being together at one time, you’d think the stupid thing would be a bit bigger.</p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs, obviously irritated. </p><p> </p><p>“Is something the matter?” Ben chirps over to her. <em> He’s </em>been in a fan-fucking-tastic mood since Saturday. Even with all their fighting throughout the week, he can’t seem to shake his dumb grin.</p><p> </p><p>It pisses Rey off even more. She doesn't know why.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia is busy playing with her G.I Joes. Rey’s been trying to follow the storyline, but it keeps changing. It started as a murder-mystery detective case, then changed to Dr. Amelia helping Storm Shadow with a broken leg, to a then full-on <em> war </em>, all taking place within the four minutes they’ve waited for the therapist. </p><p> </p><p>“My mom says she’s the best in town,” Ben tries. “Like I keep telling you, it’ll be good to talk.”</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> do </em> want to talk, but not with some <em> stranger </em> in the room with us-”</p><p> </p><p>The door finally creaks open, and a woman close to Leia’s age enters the room with a smirk. Rey has no idea how long she’s been there, or how much she’s heard. </p><p> </p><p>“Good afternoon.” She walks right up to the couch and offers a hand first to Rey. “I’m Dr. Stranger.”</p><p> </p><p>“Um. I’m Rey Johnson.”</p><p> </p><p>The morficatication hits her like a goddamn train, Ben suppressing a laugh. Aren’t therapists supposed to be helpful and supporting? And <em> not </em>make fun of their clients?</p><p> </p><p>“I’m joking, of course. It’s Dr. Erso.” She releases the handshake and moves over to Amelia. “And what’s your name?”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia sets down Cobra Commander and shakes politely, like she’s been taught. </p><p> </p><p>“Amelia. I have four years!” She accentuates the exclamation by displaying five fingers. </p><p> </p><p>“You <em> have </em>four?” the doctor questions, looking over to her hand, still in a high-five pose.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s a translation error,” Rey corrects as she goes to shake Ben’s hand. They must have already met, because they don’t require introductions. “In French, to tell someone your age, you say <em> j’ai </em>which literally means ‘I have’. She’s still, uh, learning which things aren’t quite right in both languages.”</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Erso hums and takes her seat across from them. The room is all muted colors: pale green, vanilla and beige. She stands out, dressed head to toe in black. </p><p> </p><p>“Incredible, so you’re all bilingual then?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh no, not me,” Ben says before she gets the chance. “I’m still learning. <em> They’re </em> the talented ones.”</p><p> </p><p>“Talented?” Rey repeats. </p><p> </p><p>He rubs a nervous hand on his knee, looking over to her like he’s in trouble. “...yeah? Learning a second language is...hard…”</p><p> </p><p>Ben trails off and looks up to Dr. Erso, who waits and observes.</p><p> </p><p>Great. </p><p> </p><p>What a <em> great </em>start to their group family therapy session. </p><p> </p><p>“As I was <em> about </em> to say, Leia called me a while ago regarding your family’s situation. We’re friends outside of this room, but anything we discuss here, will be kept private.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey relaxes, even if it’s the tiniest amount. “Oh. So she told you about…?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not much, actually,” Dr. Erso interrupts. “From our phone calls, all I know is that you have just moved back to the States with your daughter, Ms. Johnson, and that Ben was not aware he was her father.”</p><p> </p><p>She nods. “That...would be correct. Is there anything else Leia said?”</p><p> </p><p>Dr. Erso leans back in her chair. “She also hinted that your family unit may be experiencing some problems with communicating.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Damn.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Leia didn’t sugarcoat it <em> at all.  </em></p><p> </p><p>And although she’s right; communication has never been their forte (Lord knows it), hearing it said out-loud by this woman whom she’s never met, in this strange room, during this strange time of her life, makes Rey sink into the couch, hoping it’ll just swallow her up forever. </p><p> </p><p>“That would also be correct,” Ben confirms. </p><p> </p><p>Dr. Erso scribbles something down on her notepad, then looks back up with a smile.</p><p> </p><p>“How about I speak to Ben first? Ms. Johnson &amp; Amelia, you can wait outside in the lobby for the time being.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait, I thought this was <em> family </em> therapy?” Rey asks before she makes a single move. “Aren’t we supposed to like, talk as a <em> family </em>?”</p><p> </p><p>“It depends on the group,” she says with a slight shrug. “And from what I’ve already seen, I will need to speak to each of you individually.”</p><p> </p><p>Wordlessly, Rey nods, gathers up Amelia and her posse of buff army men, and walks straight back out the door. The lobby and reception area are empty, save for the woman at the desk. </p><p> </p><p>But she doesn’t stop walking. Oh <em> no </em>. </p><p> </p><p>The whole fucking point of coming here, doing this, was to speak <em> together. </em> Rey’s only doing this because Ben all but begged. She doesn’t want to sit in that claustrophobic room alone with this doctor and...and <em> confess </em>her feelings or whatever. </p><p> </p><p>So naturally, Rey breezes right past the plastic chairs and fake plants, and pushes open the glass door, Amelia in tow.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Maman </em>, where are we going?” she asks as they cross the parking lot. “Is Papa coming?”</p><p> </p><p>There’s a strip mall across the street. A 24-hour donut shop sits on the very end, neon yellow sign glowing bright even though it’s the middle of a sunny, winter afternoon. Their coats are still in the car, but it’s a nice enough day not to need them. </p><p> </p><p>“Has he given you a donut before?” </p><p> </p><p>Amelia shakes her head as they wait for the traffic light. “Dunno.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey walks so quickly that she feels Amelia begin to stumble, her little legs unable to keep up. She shoves the G.I Joes into her purse and carries her daughter the rest of the way until the overhead bell jangles and Amelia’s jaw is dropped at the huge variety of fried goodness.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> "Mmmm, je veux!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Amelia picks out the strawberry sprinkled one and Rey gets a maple bar. She can’t remember the last time she had a American donut. </p><p> </p><p>And as they sit there by the store window and chew on their sugary desserts, she looks up into the cloudless sky and only grows angier.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe she should call Leia and have her pick them up. Because Rey is sure as <em> hell </em>not going back into that building. </p><p> </p><p>They can’t just <em> walk </em>home. It’s miles away and they would need Ben’s car keys to get their jackets. </p><p> </p><p>And speaking of the giant himself…</p><p> </p><p>The bell jangles and Amelia’s already out of her seat and running towards him, even as Ben approaches, confused. He must have spotted them through the window.</p><p> </p><p>He looks down at the half-eaten donuts. “Why did you leave?”</p><p> </p><p>“We were hungry,” Rey simply retorts back. “And now we’re not anymore, so we should go home.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wait-”</p><p> </p><p>But she’s already standing up and throwing away the trash, acting like everything is normal and going according to plan. </p><p> </p><p>“Rey, we need to go back in and talk-”</p><p> </p><p>“No,” she interrupts, wiping some stray frosting off her face. “<em> That </em> wasn’t talking <em> . </em> She was going to <em> interrogate </em> us. And no offense to your mother’s friend- but I’m not really in the mood to spill  my heart and my deep, dark secrets and whatever the hell else she wants to pry out of my brain.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey pushes open the door hard, and grabs for Amelia’s hand again. </p><p> </p><p>“You could’ve at least <em> tried. </em>”</p><p> </p><p>“I did, Ben. I came with you. I met the doctor. And I didn’t like it. Can you take us back home now?”</p><p> </p><p>They stand out in the parking lot, Rey expectant and waiting. </p><p> </p><p>But he doesn’t move. He’s about to say something, but stops. </p><p> </p><p>“You can’t keep running away from everything, Rey.”</p><p> </p><p>She blinks at his braveness, shocked that Ben has the balls to ever <em> say </em>that to her, especially with how rough this week has already been. She almost expects him to immediately start taking back his word, and beg for forgiveness.</p><p> </p><p>But he...doesn’t.</p><p> </p><p>“I understand everything has been overwhelming,” Ben continues, “but you’re going to have to sit down and talk at one point or another, and not run off when things start getting difficult.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia whines, trying to free her hand from her mother’s grip. </p><p> </p><p>“I’m not going to argue with you in a strip mall parking lot. Just take us home and we can talk there,” Rey all but grits from clenched teeth.</p><p> </p><p>“So we can argue again in your apartment? We need a professional with us. Someone who can- wait, stop walking, please. You’re only further proving my point!”</p><p> </p><p>She doesn’t turn around, practically dragging Amelia at this point, who wants nothing more than to let go and be with her father, causing Rey to walk <em> faster, </em>because they’ve only ever needed each other, just Amelia and Maman, safe in their own little world. </p><p> </p><p>That is, until Amelia <em> bites </em>her mother’s hand. </p><p> </p><p>She yelps, releasing her unwillingly, as Rey watches her daughter sprint back to Ben. He scoops her up without a second thought. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll take you home,” he half-shouts over to her. “Just come back. Please.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shuffles back to them, refusing to look up to their glances, wanting to just go home and go back to bed, Amelia tucked warm under her chin. </p><p> </p><p>There must be defeat in both of their eyes. </p><p> </p><p>No one’s apparently winning today.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0084"><h2>84. March 3rd, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW/ mention of treatment, infertility, pregnancy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“I bought a house,” he tells her, unannounced, while picking her up in the high school’s parking lot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey gives him a double take while settling into the passenger seat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A house. I bought it. It’s a mile away from Leia’s.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They haven’t been on the...best of terms since the whole therapist incident, but Ben hopes that this may open her up, even for just a second. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why- Did Leia kick you out?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laughs, driving out of the parking lot and back up the main road. “No, no, it was my decision. I can’t keep living with my mother, for the sake of my own sanity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. That’s nice, congratulations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks.” He keeps driving, itching to ask. “Want to see it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey straightens her back and shifts in her seat. “Uh, don’t we need to get back to Amelia? I’m sure she’ll miss us.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll be fast, I promise.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t protest or say anything else as Ben drives them through the adjacent neighborhood, the route already becoming familiar. When he parks and opens Rey’s door for her, her jaw drops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the house you bought?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben smiles, places his hands on his hips and nods, looking up to the building with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yep.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her face goes from shock to worry and then disgust as she walks up the stony path to the deck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s...literally falling apart, Ben.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p><span>“Okay, so</span> <span>the house isn’t in the </span><em><span>most</span></em><span> incredible shape,” he tries, running up the path and standing on the deck, “but it was a steal at the price I bought it at, and it’s in your school district’s boundary.”</span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He eats his words instantly though, as the rotten wood gives out from under his left foot and he falls to his knees, wincing in pain. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus- are you okay?” Rey moves up to meet him and helps him up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Be careful,” he tells her. The last thing he wants is for Rey to get injured. Then this plan will </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>work. “The deck is the worst. But everything inside is okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She obviously doesn't believe him until he’s unlocking the door and letting them both in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“See? Much better inside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey looks around in awe, taking in the high ceiling and hardwood foyer. The previous tenants left lots of furniture, practically antiques at this point, and he’s not sure what to keep or throw out.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How many bedrooms?” She asks, gawking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Five bedrooms and three bathrooms,” he responds, shutting the door. “It’s </span>
  <span>2,890 square feet.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey whistles, impressed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right. It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>better inside. Why does the exterior look like that then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben shrugs, leading her through the living room. “I’m not sure. There’s some major plumbing issues, so I’ll have to fix those, too. The agent said they’ve been trying to get rid of this place for a while.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shows her the kitchen, which needs new cabinets, then the backyard. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amelia will love this,” Rey hums, eyes wandering the massive grass hill that slopes down the entirety of the property. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on,” he agrees with a smile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her mood gets a bit better as he tours the rest of the downstairs with her, but Ben’s heart begins to race when he leads her up the stairs to the second floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The master bedroom is down the hall to the left, and this room in the middle is big enough to be an office.” He opens each door and lets her snoop around. So far, so good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And this one,” Ben shows her the bedroom farthest down the right side of the hallway. “Can be Amelia’s room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t say anything as she inspects the area, nodding clinically.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think she’ll like it. Does Amelia know yet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, not yet. I wanted to show you first.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey nods again, staring through the window where a massive tree sits in the side yard. Only the sound of their breathing fills the space and Ben’s nerves feel like they’re going to make him vomit.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking that maybe…” he starts, voice unsure. “Maybe Amelia could stay with me on the weekends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watches the grip on her forearms tighten. </span>
  <span>“I was wondering when you were going to ask that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not the </span>
  <em>
    <span>worst </span>
  </em>
  <span>reaction Ben expected, he’ll give her that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>So might as well go double or nothing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Leia wants you to move in with her,” he blurts before he loses his bravado.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>gets Rey to turn back towards him, eyes wide in surprise. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She wants me to </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Think about it, Rey. She’s more than happy to watch Amelia and you guys won’t have to drive back and forth anymore, and maybe when you start treatments, it’ll be easier for-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait, slow down,” Rey breathes, steadying a hand on his arm. The touch is like fire burning and sizzling his flesh. “Where is this all coming from?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s coming from my insistent and unwavering need to have my family under one roof-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Didn’t you tell me you wanted to start going to the doctor? It’s why you came back to the States in the first place, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then why not? Leia can take care of you guys. And maybe if I can have Amelia on the weekends, you could go to appointments then and not have to worry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The logic flits through Rey’s brain, her eyes darting every which way. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben, I don’t know…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you wanted to wait until Amelia was a bit older but I think now is the perfect time. Then after you're better, you guys could move-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ah, shut the fuck up, you’re going to say too much, shut up shut up-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But unfortunately, Rey is far smarter and much more clever than Ben will ever be because she puts the puzzle pieces of his desperation before he can choke out another word. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>"Move in?" she finishes for him. "We can barley stand to be in the same room sometimes and you're thinking about <em>us moving in with you?</em>"</p><p> </p><p>"Well, you never know-"</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have you ever considered that you could go have a family with someone else? That I could too?" Rey spits out, letting go of his arm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t let her walk away. Especially with how quietly and morbidly she utters those awful words. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, I haven’t considered that.” She doesn't startle at the growl of his voice, still refusing to look at his face. “And I never fucking will.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She </span>
  <em>
    <span>snorts. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really know how to keep a girl’s hopes up, don’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey doesn’t believe him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of fucking course she doesn’t.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Why would she? How many times has Ben failed her? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too many to count, that’s sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t know what else to say to convince her. Any words that leave his mouth might actually make this situation worse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So...Ben doesn’t speak at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, he dips as low as his knees will allow and kisses Rey’s frown.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She startles at first, but then raises her chin so that Ben doesn’t have to bend down at the obscene angle he was at, letting him gently deepen the kiss until Rey pulls away, shocked and staring into his eyes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s never going to someone else because I only want you, Rey.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a step closer to her and she doesn’t move. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want everything that comes with you.</span>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben laces a hand through hers, entwining their fingers while her breathing becomes more and more shallow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I want <em>you</em>. You and Amelia</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>are my family.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wants nothing more than to kiss her again, to wrap a hand around her waist and press their bodies together forever, her warmth never leaving his skin. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey reaches a shaky hand up and traces the edge of his jaw faintly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I dreamed about something like this for a very long time,” she whispers. “When I was a little girl. When I was head-over-heels for you and didn’t even realize it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes her palm within his hand and presses a chaste kiss, listening to her every word.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Back when I listened only to my heart and never my mind.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs, but it’s soft. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was so dumb. Desperate. I told myself that you were dead to me, that I’d never go back to you, for the sake of myself </span>
  <em>
    <span>and </span>
  </em>
  <span>Amelia. But then you went and became a stupidly good father-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey cuts herself off with a sob, looking back to the ground. Tears drip onto the dirty carpet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I can’t give in yet...just, not right now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben lets go of her hands and pulls her close, her face pressed into his shirt as what she says truly hits him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t care if it takes decades, Rey,” he mumbles into the air.</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll wait for however long you need me to.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>oh my god...is that...COMMUNICATION? in THORNS?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0085"><h2>85. April 12th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>CW/ doctor's visit (very brief)</p><p>Also I totally screwed up the date when I first posted this, many thanks to Rambobrite for pointing it out!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Rey’s mind blanks as she kindly asks her doctor to repeat just <em> one </em>more time. </p><p> </p><p>The older woman sighs. </p><p> </p><p>“You can stop taking the clomiphene citrate pills if you become sexually active.”</p><p> </p><p>She forgets for a solid few minutes that Leia is still in the room with them, offering her usual moral support, staring down at her shoes-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> And smirking.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“That doesn't-” Rey stutters, “How is that even possible? Aren’t they a necessary supplement?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really, no. They help produce the same hormones that are released when you ovulate, but it’s been proven that an orgasm is much more effective in releasing the same hormones, and some other tissue-building chemicals that could help your uterine lining.”</p><p> </p><p>She gulps. Having this conversation is fine, but in front of <em> Leia? </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ugh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“O-Oh, okay.”</p><p> </p><p>“Self-help works just as well,” the doctor clinically states, “but I would personally recommend having a partner who can tend to your needs.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> God, it just keeps getting worse.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey can’t say a single fucking word to Leia as they load into her car. Her head still kind of swims post-treatment, like always, but now with this news…</p><p> </p><p>She wants to stop taking those pills. <em> So </em>bad. </p><p> </p><p>They’re terrible. They’re the reason (besides some other factors) why her mood has been so wavering and inconsistent. </p><p> </p><p>“I think you should talk to Ben tonight after dinner,” Leia finally says. </p><p> </p><p>Rey blushes, despite having a literal <em> child </em> with the man already. </p><p> </p><p>“Those meds are doing nothing but making you a grouch, Rey. And you know it. “</p><p> </p><p>She deflates, knowing Leia’s right.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, I know. But what will Ben-?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re kidding right?”  Leia looks over to her, eyes wide. “You think he’s going to say <em> no? </em>”</p><p> </p><p>He won’t. Ben’s libido is probably off the fucking charts right now, since he isn’t seeing anyone and they’re not neccersailly...dating. She imagines if her own sex drive was normal, this would have started happening a lot sooner. </p><p> </p><p>Rey still has her doubts though.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> guess </em>not…” she grumbles to the window. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>__</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Dinner goes well enough. Leia made pork chops, which Amelia devoured faster than anyone else did. The pills have also affected Rey’s appetite, and she’s lost quite a bit of weight since starting treatment. </p><p> </p><p>Ben had been the first one to notice. That her face was looking a little slimmer.</p><p> </p><p><em> That, </em> and her overall sour behavior, which anyone could notice from a mile away. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia tells the table about her wonderful weekend with her Papa; all the coloring books they did together, the food they cooked and the new bath toys he bought for her. </p><p> </p><p>It still isn’t enough to distract Rey and her nerves. </p><p> </p><p>She’s almost too scared to ask, waiting until the very end of the night when Amelia’s been tucked into her bed upstairs and Ben’s saying his goodbyes to them in the foyer. Leia leaves them with an excuse of wrapping up the dishes, which Rey damn well knows are all already done. </p><p> </p><p>“Wait, before you head out-” </p><p> </p><p>She stops him right before his hand touches the doorknob. </p><p> </p><p>“I have, uh- I have a favor to ask you,” Rey mumbles out. </p><p> </p><p>Oh god. She’s already blushing, she can feel it. </p><p> </p><p>“Sure, what’s up?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey twiddles her thumbs, trying to force the question out of her mouth but <em> jesus- </em> this is so <em> embarrassing </em>, maybe she should just invest in that satisfyer-toy-thing that she saw on Instagram-</p><p> </p><p>“Can we start having sex?”</p><p> </p><p>It’s apparently <em> not </em>the question Ben was expecting in the slightest, because he freezes instantly, hand stilled and mouth sort of open in a half-smile.</p><p> </p><p>“W-What?” His voice cracks. </p><p> </p><p>“F-For medical reasons!” Rey tries saving the situation, waving her hands around spastically. “I can stop taking these awful drugs if I start becoming sexually active again-”</p><p> </p><p>His face relaxes. But for a second, it looks like Ben is disappointed. </p><p> </p><p>“Of course I’ll help, Rey. It’s for your condition, right?”</p><p> </p><p>She nods. “Yeah. My doctor told me today and...<em> suggested </em>I talk with a partner who could help. Though, I’m not sure when we could, with Amelia being with me on the weekdays and you on the weekends…”</p><p> </p><p>Shit. Rey hadn’t thought about the time management aspect of this at <em> all.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“How about after work?” Ben suggests, scratching his head awkwardly. “Your work, not mine. I can pick you up and we can go to my place.”</p><p> </p><p>She raises a brow. “In the middle of the day? My oh my, Ben Solo, you’re a lot more naughty than I thought.”</p><p> </p><p>It’s his turn to blush, while Rey giggles at him. It helps alleviate the stiff air that surrounds them and this strange conversation. Even if only for the moment. </p><p> </p><p>“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Ben breaks through the giggle, “but aren’t <em> you </em>the one who’s asking me to fu-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Okaygoonightthankyou!” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey grabs the door knob and playfully shoves him through the frame.</p><p> </p><p>“Wait- we didn’t set up a time!”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles, well aware of that little fact. </p><p> </p><p>“I’ll text you! Bye!”</p><p> </p><p>Rey slams the door.</p><p> </p><p>Ben’s laughter is loud enough that she can hear it all the way to his car. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Ass. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>BTW, while this fic's medical knowledge isn't 100% accurate, having orgasms while dealing with uterine issues can actually help re-build any scarred tissue. I'm trying to find the link for where I found this tho &gt; o &lt; It was a while ago.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0086"><h2>86. June 15th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sexy time, toys and showers, oh my! </p>
<p> </p>
<p>CW/blood and vomit </p>
<p>(If you would like to skip these CW entirely, you can stop reading at <i>"Right on time,"</i>)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben Solo would never admit to spoiling his daughter. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>buy whatever she wants, whenever she wants.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re making up for lost time, he tells himself. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He likes to take her to Target every weekend, not only to buy ingredients for whatever they’ll cook together, but also so Ben can witness her shriek of joy as she skips through the toy aisles, asking </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>politely for the fancy tech deck set or the only Barbie doll who wears a black t-shirt (like she does).</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Amelia likes bath toys, in particular.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben has no idea if she has a lot of them at home, or didn’t when they were in France, but she’s absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>obsessed </span>
  </em>
  <span>with her bath time Barbie dolls and water-proof crayons that allow her to doodle on the white tile walls. He had to go and buy an entire basket for the overload of brightly-colored </span>
  <em>
    <span>things, </span>
  </em>
  <span>even though most of them still sit in the bath, waiting for Amelia to return each weekend. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which brings us to the question of </span>
  <em>
    <span>why. </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why </span>
  </em>
  <span>they thought it was a good idea to have shower sex.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...in the same bathroom with Amelia’s plethora of toys. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He’s already lost their rhythm at least three times, either from Rey stepping on a rubber ducky or Ben trying to get a grip on the soap holder, only for his hand to slip from her Cinderella washcloth draped over it. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He swears in frustration each time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey laughs. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ugh-</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>hell-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben’s not even close to coming at this point, with how bad this sex is. While it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>technically </span>
  </em>
  <span>round three or four today, Rey’s been pretty sick again, and the doctor thinks it might be from another hormone imbalance. And they're trying to utilize her day off and Leia's babysitting as efficiently as possible.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It only motivates him to go faster. Harder. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Ben-” she laughs out from below him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>wait- </span>
  </em>
  <span>hold on-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He stops immediately. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I’m okay,” Rey huffs, water dripping from her chin. “But this...is not working.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben frowns, unwilling to throw in the towel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Literally.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“No, no, I can do it, don’t worry, I’ll just-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He attempts to readjust again so that his feet are more squarely surrounding hers, but fails to realize that the cup of bath Legos that sits idly in the corner have since spilled and gone completely unnoticed during their exertions. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Foot meets brick. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And by </span>
  <em>
    <span>god </span>
  </em>
  <span>is that shit painful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>FUCK.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben never understood why Amelia demanded Legos in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>bath, </span>
  </em>
  <span>out of all places, especially considering the fact that she doesn’t bother to play with them any other time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey doesn’t spot them either.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, what’s wrong- </span>
  <em>
    <span>OW SHIT!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now he’s reaping exactly what’s he sowed by letting Amelia keep all these fucking toys in the tub, though they </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>should have just gone down the hallway and made do in the master bath, but the plumbing is still wonky, even after Ben replaced the valve twice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Are those...</span>
  <em>
    <span>Legos?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she screeches, ducking low to check. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey rises back up, but it’s far too fast, and Ben’s head is still dangerously close to hers as she straightens her spine-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben hears a sickening </span>
  <em>
    <span>crunch </span>
  </em>
  <span>as the back of her skull meets the bridge of his nose. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“O-Oh </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ben!” Rey gasps. He can feel her damp palms press gently on his cheeks. “Holy shit, I’m so sorry- </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re bleeding</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Right on time, he feels warmth trickle down his mouth, then crimson is mixing with the falling shower water. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Played football for five years without a single fucking broken bone, and yet-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do we need to go to a doctor? Fuck, I think your nose might be bent, that’s a lot of blood...”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Through his hazy and pain-coated vision, Ben watches as she stares up at his dribbling nose, then the bathwater. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her face pales a bit.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“T-That’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>lot </span>
  </em>
  <span>o-of-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Rey heaves and vomits right between his feet, just barely missing them. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>And although the pain is literally unbearable, Ben rubs a hand on her back, trying to help her breathe even though he can hardly breathe at the moment. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe we should get out and dry off,” Rey mumbles. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Ben tries laughing, but it’s kind of painful.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Does this mean no more shower sex ever again?” His voice is nasally. Like he's underwater. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She sighs.  </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You might have a broken nose and </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you’re worried about?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"N-No," Ben lies. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yes.</span>
  </em>
  
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>some ppl: post ur chapters in chronological order, you're making it confusing! </p>
<p>me: no</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0087"><h2>87. April 19th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>writing fluff is so hard omg</p><p>CW/ mention of shots (medical shots)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>During all of tech week, Rey sat in the house and watched as rehearsals began and wrapped. Although she’s technically tech as well, they had enough students sign up for shop this semester that the ASM was running everything, rather than her or Aaron. </p><p> </p><p>But their ASM, Abby, got the flu <em> two days before opening night.  </em></p><p> </p><p>She remembers the horrors of cast and tech members getting viciously sick right before the show started. It was Rey at one point, in tenth grade, when she sprained her ankle and was stuck at curtain rather than running crew.</p><p> </p><p>She thanks every star in the sky tonight that she’s watched <em> Phantom of the Opera </em>at least a hundred times now and knows every cue by heart. </p><p> </p><p>Because an ASM has a hard fucking job.</p><p> </p><p>Rey’s exhausted by the time the Sunday show comes around, running everywhere and trying to comprehend what the seventeen-year-old stage manager is trying to tell her through the comms. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia’s been with Ben all week since treatments and shows now overlap.</p><p> </p><p>And her mood is worse than it’s ever been before. </p><p> </p><p>She’s tired. She’s cranky. She’s hungry, but can’t eat. Her lower back and ass hurt from getting hormone shots. </p><p> </p><p>The only light at the end of the tunnel at this point is Ben. Because she’ll be able to get off the meds soon, and they actually managed to set up a time for uh, <em> nighttime activities, </em>as they must call it around their four-year-old. </p><p> </p><p>Her sex drive is still in the fucking bucket, but it doesn’t mean she isn’t excited. </p><p> </p><p>By the time curtain call has finished and Rey’s secured all the mics in the mic box, she’s on the precipice of collapsing when she heads out to the auditorium to say her good-byes.</p><p> </p><p>Deandra spots her first, one of the costume assistants. She’s only a freshman, but can do a quick change in under a minute. </p><p> </p><p>“These are my parents, Miss Johnson!” </p><p> </p><p>Rey shakes hands with them, plastering a smile on her face while Deandra goes on and on about how much she loved color theory class. </p><p> </p><p>It continues after that, meeting parents and friends and chatting with others who have taken one of her classes but weren’t in the show. She adores their enthusiasm, truly-</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> But all I want right now is to take a bubble bath and eat nachos.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Rey feels a tapping on her back.</p><p> </p><p>“Miss Johnson, someone's looking for you,” Elliot informs her. Aka, the Phantom. </p><p> </p><p>“Oh, who?” She glances around. “Is is Mr. Faulkner?”</p><p> </p><p>Elliot shakes his head. “Nah, it’s this vampire-looking dude, super tall. I think he’s with a kid too?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey blinks and glances around again, hounding for the sight on black hair and a four-year-old most likely in his arms. She had no idea they were here tonight. </p><p> </p><p>“Is he your husband, Miss Johnson?” Elliot asks from behind her. “Cause, <em> dayum.” </em></p><p> </p><p>She whips around to see the high school boy grinning and nodding, like he hasn’t said the most inappropriate thing to a teacher. </p><p> </p><p>“First of all, we’re not married,” she scolds. “Secondly, you should not be making comments like that regarding a teacher's personal life.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just sayin’.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey groans. </p><p> </p><p>“Great. Thanks for your input. Where is he?”</p><p> </p><p>Elliot still grins when he points to the entrance of the green room, by the hall. She hadn’t come through the way when she left backstage, so they probably missed each other.</p><p> </p><p>She turns to go towards that way but not without Elliot inserting his opinion, yet again.</p><p> </p><p>“You should put a ring on it, Miss Johnson!”</p><p> </p><p>Rey pretends not to hear and ignores him.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Teenagers. Ugh. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>For a minute, she thinks Elliot was just messing with her, since Rey doesn't see either of them near the hall. But that’s quickly redacted when Amelia appears out of nowhere, calling for her <em> Maman.  </em></p><p> </p><p>“Hey <em> mon chou!</em>” Rey picks her up, hosting her wriggling form onto her hip. She peppers kisses on her nose, adoring the good mood her daughter is in. </p><p> </p><p>It makes her own mood better, too.</p><p> </p><p>Especially when Ben walks over from wherever they were hanging out with flowers in hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I wasn’t expecting you guys to come and <em> flowers </em> too<em>? </em>” she tells him, taking them as he offers. “You didn’t have to, really.”</p><p> </p><p>He shrugs. “I know how much work you’re doing back there, so yes, you deserve a bouquet.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia pokes at the chrysanthemums. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you like them, <em> Maman?”</em></p><p> </p><p>Rey takes a deep breath, inhaling in an exaggerated motion.</p><p> </p><p>“They smell amazing. Thank you, sweetheart.”</p><p> </p><p>“I hope it was okay to surprise you,” Ben adds. “But I didn’t want to make you nervous or anything, I don’t know.”</p><p> </p><p>She smiles. “It was a wonderful surprise. I...really needed this.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey hugs Amelia just a little bit tighter, reveling in the warmth and touch that she hasn’t felt all week. </p><p> </p><p>She must have missed her <em> Maman, </em>too.</p><p> </p><p>“Is everything okay?” Ben tenderly asks, trying not to break the moment. “You seem kind of off.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey sighs. Her dark circles must be worse than usual and she hasn't done her hair in four days. </p><p> </p><p>“Just tired, that’s all.”</p><p> </p><p>He looks down at her like he doesn’t believe her. Eyebrow slightly raised and frown quirked.</p><p> </p><p>She jumps a little when Amelia suddenly plants both her grubby hands on Rey’s cheeks.</p><p> </p><p>“Is it your bedtime?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey laughs slightly, nodding. “Yes, it’s definitely <em> Maman’s </em>bedtime.”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, then you should ride in <em> Papa’s </em> car with us! <em> Il peut t'emmener au lit.” </em></p><p> </p><p>Her throat seizes in a cough, Amelia’s words not <em> quite </em> translating in the way she’s saying them.</p><p> </p><p>“What did she say?” Ben asks, curious and completely unaware. “I couldn’t quite catch it.”</p><p> </p><p>Face still flame-hot, Rey waves a hand, trying to playoff her choke.</p><p> </p><p>“It was nothing, just gibberish, that’s all-”</p><p> </p><p>“I said you can put her in bed, <em> Papa </em> !” Amelia interrupts, more than happy to translate. “You can tuck in <em> Maman </em> like how you tuck me in.”</p><p> </p><p>His face goes from curious to conniving in mere seconds.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, don’t worry Amelia,” Ben drawls out in a voice that makes her stomach twist. “I’ll be putting your Mom into bed soon enough and <em> very </em>frequently-”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “BENJAMIN!” </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p> </p><p>He’s lucky Rey doesn’t kill him on the spot that night. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0088"><h2>88. April 23rd, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I'm currently in a bit of a writer's block right now, which sucks, but I had a very clear vision about this chapter (thank goodness lol).</p>
<p>And this is also in celebration of hitting 1000 followers on Twitter! Woo-hoo!<br/>you can find me there @dachenabritta</p>
<p> </p>
<p>CW/ mention of medication, shots and weight loss</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s finally Wednesday.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">W-E-D-N-E-S-D-A-Y.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben spells it forward, then backwards too, because it’s the only thing he’s been thinking about.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">When he was trying to figure out the sink’s plumbing on Monday, he thought of Wednesday.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">When he accidentally dropped an entire bowl of batter on his foot Tuesday morning, he just remembered <em>Wednesday.</em></p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And now that it’s finally here, Ben’s worried.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He’s not necessarily <em>old, </em>per se.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben’s just not sure how long he’s going to last tonight.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">The idea of taking a Viagra briefly passed through his mind, but disappeared as soon as it rushed by.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And it’s not like his performance was bad last time.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">(He hopes.)</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But according to Rey, the whole point of them doing this is quite literally sided for her benefit. Which he’s completely fine with, and will do anything to make her feel better.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>“The doctor said that…orgasms help with re-building the tissue. Something to do with a chemical response in my brain, I don’t know.”</em>
</p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">Rey was embarrassed as hell to explain fully what the recommended treatment was. She was red-faced, staring down at the floor as the words were practically forced out.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">All while on the other hand, Ben’s mind was in the fucking gutter.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He was planning the <em>nastiest </em>things in his perverted brain, determined to make Rey come so much, that she’d never have to take another pill or get another shot ever again.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And since that conversation, the perverted thoughts only grew, leading to a point where Ben <em>knew </em>he would not be physically capable to live up to even his own fantasies: pretending like he was a twenty-something super-athlete, hyped up on adrenaline and with the sex drive of a god.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben is very excited for tonight, to say the least.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He’d insisted on goin out to dinner beforehand too, after he’d picked her up from the school, but Rey’s hunger has been inconsistent and she said she’d most likely be too tired anyways.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">
  <em>I mean, it’s not like we’re dating or anything.</em>
</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s all medical. That’s what they keep telling each other.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben doesn’t believe it as much as she apparently does.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But he’ll respect her pace. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d wait years.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Decades, if that’d make Rey happy.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">When the clock finally strikes 3:30 pm, Ben jumps into his car and speeds to the school, not giving a shit if he gets a ticket. He hasn’t been this excited since Rey gave him the green light for Amelia to spend weekends at his house.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She greets him with an exhausted wave, slumping into the cushiony seat with a sigh.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Long day?” He pipes out, driving them back.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Rey groans, eyes closed and forehead pressed against the window.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You have no idea.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He doesn’t want to press into anything after hearing the defeat in her voice. Class must have been tough today, coupled with her ongoing weight loss and the medication’s side effects.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Amelia complains to him almost every weekend about her mom.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben still doesn’t have a solution for <em>that </em>problem.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But he can start tonight.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Rey falls asleep on the couch while Ben preps dinner; just a quiche he learned how to make at work. He’s still too scared to touch anything on the stove, or anything that requires <em>actual </em>cooking.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Amelia’s probably pigging out at Leia’s tonight. If Rey thought <em>Ben </em>was bad a portion control, his mother is on another level.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He feels bad when he has to wake her up to eat, shaking Rey’s shoulder gently.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Quiche is ready if you’d like some.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She rises, yawning and blinking up at him, almost confused as to how she ended up on the couch.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Oh. Did I fall asleep?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben nods.“If you don’t want to do anything tonight, that’s alright Rey.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He tries to hide the pain in his voice, but knows that everything is up to her. That’s been the motto since the start.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“No, I still do, believe me,” she huffs. “I just don’t really want to eat though, but thank you.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He doubts she had lunch, and judging by the way her legs and arms have been thinning out, Rey needs the calories.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Not even just a slice? Did you eat anything else today?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She shrugs. “I had some toast this morning.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“That’s it?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Ben, it’s just food. Can we get started already-“</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “Not unless you eat something.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Rey weighs her options momentarily, but then gives in, sinking back into the couch. “Fine. Bring me a plate.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben cuts her a thin slice, still piping hot from the oven. She eats it meagerly, while Ben all but scarfs his down.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Empty plates clutter the coffee table sooner than later.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Want to go upstairs? I got my old memory foam mattress shipped in.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She nods, yawning.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Sure.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Halfway up the stairs, Ben decides that her steps are much too slow for his satisfaction so he scoops her up breathlessly, a tiny gasp emitting from Rey as he carries her the rest of the way.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“You don’t have to keep carrying me…” she grumbles.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I know.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Rey pokes at his chest, where he’s become <em>much</em> more solid since December. “Those bakery guys really put you to work, don’t they?”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben can’t help the laugh that escapes him. He's sure normal-feeling Rey would be absolutely flabbergasted to say such a thing without a blush or single stutter.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Yeah, they sure do.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">His bed’s been made since this morning and he drops her unceremoniously towards the top.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">No giggle or sigh, but Rey’s eyes are semi-open and lidded.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“Are you still sure about this?” Ben asks with an eyebrow raised. She looks like one the zombies that Amelia draws. “We can always wait until after you’re off your meds.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But Rey only waves his worries off. “Yes, yes, I’m sure, just a little tired, that’s all.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">She settles into the mountain of pillows, spreading her legs like she’s trying to take up as much bed space as possible.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“If you say so.”</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben shuffles to her open legs and pries her slacks off, glancing up to the green granny panties she wears. Rey either forgot about tonight or she literally doesn’t care.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1">He lingers at her feet for a moment, massaging them to release the stress of a hard work day. <em>That </em>gets her to moan, toes flexing as Ben takes his time on the left, then the right, letting her soft moans go straight to his perverted storage bank.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">“I’m going to start slowly, to make sure you’re still okay,” Ben whispers up to her. Her lidded eyes have become completely closed but she does nod in acknowledgement.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He continues to massage her feet, but his hands slowly drift up her legs, her calf muscles also full of knots and tension.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1"><em>Jesus, you’d think </em>Rey <em>was the one lifting bags of flour and remodeling a house.</em></p>
<p class="p3"> </p>
<p class="p1">The delicate moans taper off, even with Ben’s ongoing efforts. He looks back up to see her face sideways into the pillows.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Her moans have been replaced by…snores.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">He laughs. Thank <em>god </em>he didn't take that Viagra.</p>
<p class="p1"> </p>
<p class="p1"> Ben should have known. Until Rey’s completely off the meds and they’ve lightened up her shot dosage, his fantasies are postponed.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">And while it may be some of the worse blue-balling of his life, he stands up anyways and pulls back the covers enough to lift her under the comforter and sheets. Her bra is still on, which Ben doubts is comfortable, so he unfastens it but doesn’t remove it.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Rey hardly moves, already out like a light.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Shucking his jeans, Ben turns on the TV with the volume low and joins her on the other side, barley out of reach.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">It’s all at the cusp of domesticity: everything he wants at the grasp of his fingertips.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">But he smiles at Rey’s peaceful expression anyways, grateful for every crumb he receives.</p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p2"> </p>
<p class="p1">Ben can wait.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>When my mom was going through treatments, she once fell asleep while sitting on the stairs in the house, waiting for my dad to draw her a bath. That story partially inspired this chapter lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0089"><h2>89. May 6th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trying to wrap this story up! I'm thinking end count will be 100 chapters, which sounds insane. Thank you all for being incredible readers, I love your comments so much &lt;3 &lt;3 (I'll answer them soon, I know I'm slow)</p><p>- Chaney</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>It starts with a simple hip bump.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Fun. Playful. Ben’s a little surprised, but welcomes it nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then it progresses to simple flirting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like being kids again. If things had only been just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>bit different. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Touches on his arms, hands and back. And when Ben reciprocates, Rey lets him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Welcomes it, even.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like a switch has been flipped.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She smiles much more often now. The wrinkles on her forehead have softened. There’s an extra skip in her step when he pulls up in his new pick-up truck. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(The Aston needed to go. Ben started to look like an asshole driving up to Lowe’s in a $200,000 car.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a warm, sunny Wednesday. The sun rose an hour ago, but the bakery remains fairly empty since it’s a weekday.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s helping </span>
  <span>Andre</span>
  <span> add change to the till when the overhead bell jingles. Like Ben does for every customer who comes in when he’s working front of house, he looks up and greets them like he’s been taught to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His </span>
  <em>
    <span>hello, welcome in </span>
  </em>
  <span>stops short, though.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hand in hand, Rey and Amelia waltz in, all smiles. Amelia runs ahead, straight to the counter, skipping and laughing already.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben rounds the cash register to scoop her up. And automatically, Amelia smashes her face into the crook of his neck and hums. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She really likes doing that, doesn’t she?” Rey catches up and watches them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, Amelia’s head raising with his shoulder.  “I have no idea why.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s in the middle of his shift, but considering that the dining room is pretty much empty, he gets a nod from </span>
  <span>Andre</span>
  <span> and rests his back against the stone counter.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like a coffee? I can get Amelia something too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you on a break right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughs and with the way the golden daylight filters through the glass windows, Rey’s face and hazel hair quite literally glow. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s never been a man of poetry, and due to circumstances concerning this past year, he’s not sure he’s ever been so...</span>
  <em>
    <span>mushy, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he can’t help what he says next.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jesus Christ,” Ben breathes, eyes never leaving her face, “you’re beautiful.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, so it’s not necessarily </span>
  <em>
    <span>poetry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It’s just a compliment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And he’s said it before. Many times. Mostly when he had his hand shoved down Rey’s pants, or they were pressed up together on her bedroom door, the words whispered in order to not wake anyone up. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shucks in a breath.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How the fuck did he not notice? All those years, brushing her off, </span>
  <em>
    <span>bullying </span>
  </em>
  <span>her, for god’s sake. Yes, Rey had still only been a child, just like he was, but how did he </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>realize how much he’d missed out on?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But the past is the past. Their time doesn’t deserve to be maliciously thought upon; regrets heavy in the wind, dampening everything they’ve worked so hard for. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“S-Sorry, that kind of came out of nowhere,” he whispers, bouncing his daughter who is completely at peace with her nose buried into his hairline. “Let me get that coffee-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stills, about to set Amelia down on her feet and apologize again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We came in today because- um. Well, I’m bringing Amelia into work today and Leia offered to watch her later tonight instead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No way. There’s no way that this train of thought is heading where Ben </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinks </span>
  </em>
  <span>it’s heading. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So...I thought we could get dinner, or something.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey mumbles out the words, like a bashful high schooler confessing a crush.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey Johnson,” he can’t help but grin, the initial surprise wearing off quick enough to melt into snark. “Are you asking me out on a date?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Solo,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
  <span>Andre</span>
  <span> pipes out from the register. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit, that’s right. They’re still standing at the counter. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Get a table, </span>
  <em>
    <span>s’il vous plaît."</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah-” Ben waves a hand, apologizing. “Sorry, we’ll move.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As they’re moving to the booth where only months ago Amelia had learned quite frankly the biggest secret of her adolescent life, she blows a raspberry on his neck, causing Ben to jump and shiver from her suddenness, even though she’s already made a habit out of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Breakfast,” is all the four-year-old says to him, tone </span>
  <em>
    <span>extremely </span>
  </em>
  <span>demanding.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s one thing about his girls you don’t mess around with: their food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>My girls.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben sets his daughter on the cushiony seat and just...stares. At the two of them. Both looking up to him, curious about the stillness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Close. He’s getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>so</span>
  </em>
  <span> close.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stay right here, I’m going to go grab some coffee and pastries.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s cheeks are slightly tinted with a rosy hue. “Okay, thank you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wanna </span>
  <em>
    <span>framboise </span>
  </em>
  <span>please!” Amelia adds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s half turned away from the table before he whips around one last time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and Rey?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She perks up instantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Dinner tonight sounds great.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>they're just doing everything a lil bit backwards lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0090"><h2>90. June 15th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW/ doctor's visit, blood, vomiting</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>They’re checked into the ER in record time, no doubt from Ben’s gruesome sight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sits in one the plastic chairs, much too small for his frame, while Rey rests her forearms on the front counter, foot tapping and as the nurse slowly inputs his medical details into the computer.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you his wife?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question catches her off-guard, instantly sending her spine ram-rod straight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh. Why are you asking?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The woman, more a girl than anything, seeing as she appears years younger than Rey only sighs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Only spouses and immediate family can accompany a patient to the back. So unless you’re his wife, or maybe his sister…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey chews on her lip. She’s sure Ben would be fine going by himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when she looks back at him, shoulders hunched in pain and the white dish towel completely soaked in blood, her heart screams otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y-Yes, um,” she swallows, “I’m his wife.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The girl types in a few more things, then gestures back to the waiting room, completely unfazed. Must not be her first rodeo.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben winces when Rey sits back down next to him and attempts to rub a soothing circle on his back. She feels horrible. If she’d only known his head was </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>there…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t whorry about et,” he muffles out, seeming to already know what she’s thinking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe it’s because of how much time they’ve been spending together lately. Or the fact that this man </span>
  <em>
    <span>has </span>
  </em>
  <span>known her since she was practically Amelia’s age. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The blood seems to ick her yet again, and before Rey knows it, she’s grabbing the garbage can next to the pitiful coffee table lined with </span>
  <em>
    <span>People </span>
  </em>
  <span>magazines, and throwing up whatever is still left in her system. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ew.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Thankfully, another nurse comes out to call for Ben and Rey hands over the waste basket to the woman who most likely has seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>much </span>
  </em>
  <span>worse in her career. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to get checked out as well, miss?” the red-headed nurse warmly asks. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head as they follow. “No, I’m alright. I’m at a clinic practically every week, anyways.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Technically, that’s a lie. It’s been over a month since Rey visited her endocrinologist. Her tests had turned a wonky mess, and she’d encouraged going </span>
  <em>
    <span>au natural </span>
  </em>
  <span>for the time being.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But </span>
  <em>
    <span>au natural </span>
  </em>
  <span>has </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> made her sick. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey had phoned in and explained her symptoms, not wanting to return to the clinic during her small break. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hormone imbalance </span>
  </em>
  <span>is what her doctor has claimed. She just needed to push through the pain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like Rey can’t fucking win sometimes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben sits on the hospital bed, legs dangling (which is rare) off the side. A doctor appears only a minute later, greeting them dryly, and moves Ben’s hand away from his nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah- doesn't appear broken,” the doctor announces. “Just bent and bruised.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t watch as his nose is cleaned, or when the doctor places some metal brackets over the bridge and across the top. Rey’s stomach is in knots, churning with bile. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It feels like </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>can set her off nowadays: scrambled eggs, the smell of bleach, the sight of blood. Rey’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>thrown up because of blood before. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The sickness almost reminds her of-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor said there was no need for birth control. It would do more harm than good.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Ben </span>
  <em>
    <span>always</span>
  </em>
  <span> pulls out or wears protection.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost</span>
  </em>
  <span> always.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Only once or twice, she swears.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that’s all it can take, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The proof of such is currently eating lasagna with her grandma on the other side of town.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But with the chances so low right now, they didn’t think it was much of consequence. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Low. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But not zero.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey can only swallow and reach for Ben’s hand, tensed in pain while the doctor straightens out the bruised cartilage.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0091"><h2>91. August 2nd, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Remember when I said 100 chapters? Yeah, it's looking more like 105-110.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>her Papa’s house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She loves her room here. She loves her bathtub. She loves her mountains and mountains of toys.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And she loves Papa (of course).</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grandma’s house is okay too. Amelia has her books there that she can’t really understand yet. But the covers are cool. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia </span>
  <em>
    <span>begged </span>
  </em>
  <span>Maman to let her stay at Papa’s house more. She only used to get two days. But then Maman started to stay over too. Only for a day, the one before Amelia’s first day. Vendredi, she thinks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Or it’s Samedi. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Days are hard to keep track of. Too many names in </span>
  <em>
    <span>both </span>
  </em>
  <span>languages. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Other names are much easier for Amelia to learn.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like </span>
  <em>
    <span>Metallica, Kiss, Korn </span>
  </em>
  <span>and</span>
  <em>
    <span> Slushy. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-Whoops, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Slasher.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Papa sits on the couch with her and they eat their food that they made all by themselves and he plays all these cool videos and songs where she can watch blood and guts and all the clothes are spiky and just...cool.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because her Papa is </span>
  <em>
    <span>cool.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She tells Grandma this and she only laughs and kisses Amelia’s nose. When she tells Maman about all the cool videos Papa lets her watch because he’s awesome which makes </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amelia </span>
  </em>
  <span>awesome, too, Maman just groans.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia wants to spend every day here at Papa’s house.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With Maman too, of course. Now that she’s nicer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like she’d done earlier, she goes back to begging Père Noël. She wishes and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wishes </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him to change Maman’s mind.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Père Noël must </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>be listening to Amelia's wishes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because the day has finally arrived.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grandma is helping load all of Amelia’s clothes and toys into Papa’s big truck. She helps too, by carrying a handful of books and some of her drawing pads out to the garage where Papa thanks her and then places them neatly in a box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman rolls some bags out too and throws them into the back, adding to their piles of stuff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grandma picks her up and hugs her tight, patting Amelia’s tummy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You father better keep you fat and happy,” she complains. “That’s supposed to be my job.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Grandma isn’t very happy that they’re going to live in Papa’s house and not hers. But she’ll still get to see Amelia all the time, because Grandma says Maman is going to get sick again soon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They ride over to the blue house and Amelia picks her nose, smearing the boogers all over the glass of the window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When they pull into the driveway, she’s out of the car quick, running directly into the front yard and flopping in the grass. It’s warm outside and she wants nothing more than to play outside. Maybe Maman and Papa will take a break and play with her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But they only continue to move stuff into the house, which excites her too. Papa lets her take the hot gooey lamp thing, and instructs her </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>to drop it when Amelia carries it up the stairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t. Papa says he’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>proud of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman and Papa keep moving things for a while, leaving Amelia quite bored. She wanders the other rooms, which are usually empty, but now filled with Maman’s stuff. There’s a smaller one next to her room and there’s some boxes now. Since no one’s around, she immediately starts tearing them open and digs through the contents.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her couverture, her tétine. Some other toys that she’s much too old for now. Clothes that are too tiny for how tall and majestic Amelia now is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman comes in with another box but stops when she sees Amelia hunched over the pile, looking at her old things.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pourquoi as-tu tout ça, Maman?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman sets down the box. “It was all yours mon chou, don’t you remember?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sort of. She was a baby forever ago. Now Amelia is a big girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Papa walks into the room with a much bigger box, setting it down next to Maman’s. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was wondering what these ones were full of. Do you want to just store them in here, Rey? I think it’s a better option than the basement.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman nods and pushes her box into the closet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maman, I don’t want these.” Amelia doesn’t understand. “I’m too big now.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her and Papa stop and look at her, like they’re trying to think of what to say.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, Amelia,” Papa starts, “there might be someone in the next few years that </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>fit into these clothes and wants these toys. So, we’re going to keep them safe, just in case.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone else? Who the heck else is going to be living in their house?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No thank you,” Amelia finally announces, shoving her old tétine back into the box. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman just laughs at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Later that night, Papa picks out a movie for them to watch. Amelia sits in the middle of the couch, her toes digging into Maman’s leg and her head resting on Papa’s belly. She tries to stay awake and watch it, really, but she’s too pooped out from moving.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia is half-asleep when she hears Maman turn off the movie and whisper to Papa.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia pretends to be totally asleep. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you mean what you said earlier?” she can hear her say quietly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“About the baby stuff?” Papa says back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Papa shifts under her a bit and Amelia has to try very hard to keep pretending. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I mean, sure, of course. Isn’t that why you’re putting yourself through hell right now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maman stays very quiet but begins to rub Amelia’s back like she did when she was a baby.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what about </span>
  <em>
    <span>you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ben?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>‘What about me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>want to have another kid?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uh-Uh. No </span>
  <em>
    <span>way. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There is no way Papa would ever want another kid because </span>
  <em>
    <span>Amelia </span>
  </em>
  <span>is already here and Papa is </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I would be over the fucking moon for another kid,” Papa says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While Amelia doesn’t understand what </span>
  <em>
    <span>over the fucking moon </span>
  </em>
  <span>means, she thinks it meas he would be very super happy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could he betray her like this? How could </span>
  <em>
    <span>Maman </span>
  </em>
  <span>betray her?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can’t hear anything else they say, fury red and hot in Amelia’s mind. Revenge. She wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>revenge </span>
  </em>
  <span>for them to even be </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking </span>
  </em>
  <span>about bringing in a stupid baby. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Where do you even get babies? At a baby store?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stop talking and Papa picks her up, heading up to her room. Amelia wants to bite him. She wants to kick. But she does nothing of the sort. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’ll have her revenge, alright.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Just like Jason. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I wrote this chapter in Amelia's POV on purpose. You're supposed to be just as confused as she is lol.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0092"><h2>92. May 6th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>They both idly realize as they sit on the creaky bench, enjoying tacos from a local taco truck, that Ben and Rey...don’t really know each other all that well. </p><p> </p><p>Even when they were kids, they’d completely stopped talking when Rey was only thirteen or fourteen. </p><p> </p><p>The past however months have been a fiasco of emotions and arguing, dumb passion and parenting. There’s only been a few times where they’re truly alone with nothing to bother them and no one to take care of. </p><p> </p><p>It’s an odd feeling.</p><p> </p><p>They talk about the usual stuff when he picks her up, when they order, when they wait. About Ben’s house renovations. Leia’s new hobby of sewing (it isn’t going well). And of course: Amelia starting kindergarten this September. </p><p> </p><p>Amelia is going to be a <em> kindergartener.  </em></p><p> </p><p>The thought scares Rey a bit. It’s her baby, for god’s sake. And she’s growing too quickly for her to keep up. </p><p> </p><p>“She’ll be fine, and you know it,” Ben assures her after grabbing the order and sitting back down. “I’m personally more worried about the other kids who will be in her class.”</p><p> </p><p>She takes the tray of carnitas tacos, thanking him. “What do you mean? What about the other kids?”</p><p> </p><p>Ben laughs and stares out into the empty parking lot which they’re eating in. It’s not the most romantic or ideal place for a first date. But it’s perfect to Rey.</p><p> </p><p>“I think Amelia is going to scare them. <em> We </em>can handle her, because we know her usual antics. But think about Amelia talking to another kid her age.”</p><p> </p><p>Amelia doesn’t go on playdates or anything. Hell, she hardly <em> interacts </em> with other kids besides the thrice a week trips to the park. Rey was raised almost the same way, until she’d met Ben. And then she had <em> one </em>friend. </p><p> </p><p>“Ah, okay, I guess I know what you mean,” she agrees, taking a bite of taco.</p><p> </p><p>“Are there any other parents you work with?” Ben attempts before eating. “Maybe Amelia could make friends before she starts school.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shakes her head, swallowing. “A couple of the teachers I know all have older ones, I think. She loved hanging out with my students today though. They thought her obsession with the macabre was a real hoot.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben finally takes a bite, but suddenly pales. “Teenage students?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes. I work at a high school. <em> Our </em>old high school. Of course they’d be teenagers.”</p><p> </p><p>Mildly struggling, Rey watches him finish his bite, still completely clueless why he’s freaking out so much. </p><p> </p><p>“Is there something bad about that?” she finally asks after a solid minute of silence. </p><p> </p><p>Ben sets down taco #2 and awkwardly scratches his head. </p><p> </p><p>“I guess I hadn’t thought of it before but, um.”</p><p> </p><p>He stops, like he can’t physically say the words.</p><p> </p><p>Rey huffs. “C’mon just spit it out-”</p><p> </p><p>“Amelia is going to grow up and <em> date </em>someone,” Ben blankly states. “Oh god, why can’t I handle the thought of that?”</p><p> </p><p>Ah, he’s having the same realization Rey did almost two years ago. She’s already gone through this very exact mess, and it honestly doesn’t freak her out as much anymore, since she’s accepted the thought. Besides, it’s too far off...for now.</p><p> </p><p>But all this dad stuff is still too new to Ben. He’s essentially having a five-year crash course in a manner of months. </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, unfortunately Amelia <em> will </em>grow up, become a teenager and probably date,” she tries telling him soothingly. “I never dated in high school, but she might.”</p><p> </p><p><em> That </em>little blurb is apparently enough to shake him out of his temporary panic.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t date in high school? Like, at all?”</p><p> </p><p>Rey shakes her head, going for her second taco. “Nope. Didn’t want to.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Also, I only wanted to date you but you were too old, away at college and I hated your guts. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“What about after?”</p><p> </p><p>She shakes her head again. “I went out a few times in Paris, but nothing extensive. What about you?”</p><p> </p><p>Ben stares down at the table. “I dated someone, Bazine, for a few years. We uh, didn’t get along most of the time, honestly. I was always at work and she traveled. Still got pissed when I refused to marry her, even though I knew it was a bad idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“She sounds delightful,” Rey sarcastically quips. </p><p> </p><p>“Yeah,” he continues, “Bazine probably was. But I put her in a bad mood most of the time. Shit, I put <em> everyone </em>in a bad mood, usually.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben’s tacos are already gone. He’d only gotten three, much to her surprise. Usually, he can shovel done food like a garbage disposal. </p><p> </p><p>“And now I’m souring our date night,” he sighs. “I’m sorry Rey, I didn’t mean to go on that tangent.”</p><p> </p><p>Rey only licks her fingers of salsa.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t apologize. Past is the past. Nothing we can do to change it. It’s important to listen to it, though.”</p><p> </p><p>Ben takes in her words, slowly but surely. </p><p> </p><p>“We’re never going to escape our past, are we?” he asks. </p><p> </p><p>His brown eyes gaze down at her, nothing else saturating them anymore. No more lies, no more hiding. It’s just Ben. </p><p> </p><p>“Someday, maybe,” she truthfully tells him, “But there’s better things for us to focus on now.”</p><p> </p><p>It must be the answer he wanted because Ben suddenly smiles, leans down, kisses her sweetly, like this is their one-hundredth date and not just their first. </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0093"><h2>93. August 16th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Lots of TW for this chapter. It's a heavy one. There is still a HEA, but please be advised about the contents. I will include a spoiler summary at the bottom.</p><p>TW // pregnancy, alcohol, mention of drunk driving/reckless driving, mention and discussion of possible miscarriage (no actual miscarrying, while NOT happen in this story), panic attack</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>They’d all gone out together for family dinner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Some run-of-the-mill family restaurant. Amelia loves when all three of them go together. Which is happening more and more frequently.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’d also been a nice, little happy hour going on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey only indulged in the appetizers and not the alcohol, for numerous reasons, but encouraged Ben to spoil himself. The house is nearly finished, and he’d worked fifteen hours overtime this week. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once a workaholic, always a workaholic, Rey guesses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't drink much, but enough that she has him forfeit the keys to drive them home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s not drunk. Or even tipsy. But Ben obliges without hesitation anyways, understanding her anxiety instantly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s taking the exit off the freeway that leads to the house when all of a sudden a white Prius, also taking the same exit, cuts them off, then proceeds to </span>
  <em>
    <span>slam </span>
  </em>
  <span>on their brakes. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey must do the same, pressing the pedal so hard that she swears her toes touch the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She can hear the truck’s tires screech like a scream, braking just in time that their bumpers are only inches apart. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All of their seatbelts fault into the safety lock. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Including </span>
  <em>
    <span>her </span>
  </em>
  <span>seatbelt, which cuts directly across Rey’s belly and torso.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia squeals something, she’s not sure, and Ben automatically turns around to check on them both.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s saying something, swearing maybe, at the Prius who’s at a dead stop in front of them, the traffic light red. She can hear him say her name a few times, then he’s shaking her shoulder and breaking Rey out of the stupor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...wrong? Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes feel glazed as Rey instinctively wraps an arm around her middle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey,” Ben tries again, following the path of her arm. “Are you hurt?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then, the panic sets it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I need to call the d-doctor right now,” her voice shakily answers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben keeps turning to watch the Prius. The light remains red.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Which doctor? You mean-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He looks down to where she cradles her stomach, understanding instantly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey thinks she may be crying now. She doesn’t know. She just keeps rubbing her belly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>scared, because the whole point of not saying anything was because her doctor said the chances of the baby surviving throughout the entire pregnancy were not good, and she wanted make sure Ben wouldn’t be sad if she-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He unbuckles and gets out the car, running over to the Prius that could have nearly killed </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Through the cracked window, Rey can only catch glimpses at what he screams to the driver’s side. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>-roll down the window, you son of a bitch! Roll it down-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia sits in her carseat, silent, and sucking her thumb.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>-have happened? You could have fucking killed us!-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When the window does not, apparently, get rolled down, Rey watches as Ben grips both sides of the mirror and continues to shout at the driver.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ll rip your fucking mirror off, I swear to fucking god, be a man and fight me like one-!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Shit. Maybe she </span>
  <em>
    <span>should </span>
  </em>
  <span>call someone. But Rey doesn’t want to bail Ben out of jail tonight. Or any other night. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>-might be pregnant! You know what charges we could fucking press!-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey takes in an icy breath despite the warm weather. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This isn’t how she wanted to tell him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She was only </span>
  <em>
    <span>weeks </span>
  </em>
  <span>away from saying anything. And even then, the chances of the baby surviving past the second trimester are so low-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She watches in satisfied horror as Ben grips the base of the mirror firm and then proceeds to </span>
  <em>
    <span>yank </span>
  </em>
  <span>down as hard as he can, the piece of plastic ripping like it’s just some tree branch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No wonder Ben can hold me and fuck me at the same time, </span>
  </em>
  <span>her mind inappropriately thinks.</span>
  <em>
    <span> He sure as hell has the strength.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He slams it down to the road and the Prius takes off, fleeing from the scene.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Good.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rushes back to the car, flinging open the door, and unbuckles her seatbelt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m driving us to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She becomes defensive because </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ben’s drank tonight and she doesn’t want him to recklessly drive and hit someone. She just witnessed him rip someone's </span>
  <em>
    <span>mirror </span>
  </em>
  <span>off with his bare hands.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-No, Ben, I can drive us, please calm down-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>calm!” he shouts into the air and not at her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“<em>No</em>," she shouts back, "you’re not!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The light turned green a while ago. Luckily, no one is behind them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben must realize she’s right. Because even though she’s the one with tears drying on her cheeks, Rey is one-hundred percent sober.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And also now the calm one.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he whispers as she rebuckles, wiping her eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like she’s in autopilot, probably the shock setting into her veins, while on the way to the endocrinologist. There’s not blood or no immediate pain, thank god.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But that doesn’t mean everything’s a-okay.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just keep driving.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s the same feeling she experienced after giving birth to Amelia and crawling to the phone. Her body ignored everything; the panic, the pain. Anything that would veer the course of her and her child’s safety.</span>
  <em>
    
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben distracts himself by talking to Amelia in the backseat. She knows that he’s trying not to ask questions, which could inadvertently launch her into an attack.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus, Rey.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s only a slight lingering ache when she parks the truck and silently walks towards the clinic, letting Ben grab Amelia from her carseat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tries to grab her hand and Rey swats him away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she chides. Rey is hyper-focused, eyes boring into the small building that she’s coming to know too well. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben shrinks back.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s usual doctor isn’t in but the clinic sees her immediately when she explains what happened, voice too monotone for the situation.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Normally, this level of concern wouldn’t be necessary for someone with a normal fucking uterus. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s still so numb that Rey goes into the ultrasound room by herself, making sure Ben stays back to comfort Amelia instead. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Alone in the room with just a technician, it all comes crashing down in an instant. It’s like her emotions were on standstill; waiting for her to be safe again so the dam could break.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cries when the gel is placed on her stomach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I said no more secrets, I told him I wouldn’t hide anything ever again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She cries when the sensor beeps and scans. Rey doesn’t dare look at the screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I wanted this to be a happy surprise.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Panic is now turning into a panic attack, as she feared. She’d been so good the whole time, driving calmly, checking herself in. But reality is setting into stone, and it’s all too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This is the worst possible way for Ben to find out-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Miss Johnson?” the technician calmly asks, grabbing her hand. The world is getting blurry and dark. “I’m going to go get your partner, your blood pressure is too high-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey doesn’t hear the rest of the woman’s sentence. </span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>CHAPTER SUMMARY<br/>Ben drinks at dinner and Rey drives them home. A car cuts them off and possibly injures Rey, and she fears she may miscarry. She drives them to the clinic where she has a panic attack.</p><p>A/N<br/>This is how I originally wrote this chapter and I thought about making it a little less angsty but I think realistically, this is how it would play out of someone was high-risk and pregnant. I ran a poll on Twitter asking if I should soften it, and I'm happy that people were okay with the tough stuff.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0094"><h2>94. July 17th, 2020</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW/ vomiting, pregnancy </p><p>Very detailed description of vomiting! Please skip if that's too much. Summary will be in end notes.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia finds her bent over the toilet one Saturday morning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia and Ben are at the Lego store, even though he still wears a brace on his nose from the unfortunate accident </span>
  <em>
    <span>due </span>
  </em>
  <span>to Legos only a few weeks ago. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Amelia had demanded.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They’ve really got to work on the concept of “no more toys”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia has an extra key and had let herself in, having no idea anyone was still there. She’d apparently left a sweater or key, Rey doesn’t know, but she heard the sounds of gagging through the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey? Honey? Are you home?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She freezes, about to flush the contents of her breakfast down the toilet. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uhhh. Yeah. Ben and Amelia are out to the mall.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Instead, Rey closes the toilet lid and goes to wash her hands, like she’s getting ready for the day and not puking her guts out. She remembers being sick with Amelia. But this is an entirely different fucking feeling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As predicted, Leia knocks lightly at the door, then lets herself into the Master bathroom. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There you are. I was wondering if Amelia brought the Scrabble here on Friday?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey dries off his hands. “I haven’t seen it around. But I’ll help you look.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And in that </span>
  <em>
    <span>microsecond</span>
  </em>
  <span> where Rey is turning around away from the mirror to go and help Leia look for the board game, the feeling suddenly returns. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t make it to the toilet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whatever was left is vomited into the sink. There’s tears in her eyes, bile in her nose.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>awful.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you alright?” Leia grabs Ben’s water cup and fills it up. “Here, lets move you over to the toilet instead-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia closes the toilet lid just as quickly as she lifts it, flushing immediately after. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Looks like that wasn’t your first rodeo this morning.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey’s cheek collapses on the toilet seat, looking up to the older woman with knowing eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A mother would know another mother.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you already take a test?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia doesn’t ask in an interrogating way. Just simply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Rey answers, “and I’ve already been to my doctor. Twice.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does Ben have any idea yet?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The question makes her queasy because </span>
  <em>
    <span>no, </span>
  </em>
  <span>of course not, she can’t tell him anything until-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She pukes </span>
  <em>
    <span>again, </span>
  </em>
  <span>even though there’s practically nothing left.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He can’t know yet,” Rey says, spitting into the bowl. “The doctor said my chances of carrying to the second trimester are only at thirty percent, and the chances of a full-term pregnancy are only fifteen percent. Or lower.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia grabs another glass of water, letting Rey swish the water around in her mouth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ben told me about the ‘accident’ slip-up back in February,” she says, like walking on needles. “Is that the problem?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey shakes her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Funny enough- no, it isn’t. Ben and I talked about it and he. Um, well he wants to have another baby.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leia’s brows shoot up to her graying hairline. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Going to surprise him. If the baby makes it past September.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The older woman continues nodding, watching as Rey flushes and rises from her cramped spot on the bathroom floor. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope to God it will,” Leia says under her breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hugs Rey, despite the stink and spit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy for you, honey. And another grandbaby, I’m going to cry!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Maybe </span>
  </em>
  <span>another grandbaby,” Rey feels like she must correct. Which is the exact reason why she’s said nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The baby’s already got your genes and Ben’s bull-headed DNA,” Leia laughs. “I’m sure it’ll be a fighter.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey hugs Leia back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A fighter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SUMMARY </p><p>Leia finds our Rey is pregnant and she explains that it's a very high-risk pregnancy. Rey is afraid the baby won't make it and is scared to tell Ben.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0095"><h2>95. August 16th, 2020 (ii)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>CW/ doctor, hospital, pregnancy, discussion of miscarriage (no actual miscarriage, will NOT happen)</p><p>BTW Amelia's b-day was on August 6th, and idk if I'll do a chapter but she's now FIVE. Oh my lord. She feels like my own kid sometimes, I stg.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben holds Amelia tightly in his arms.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she’s scared, Amelia really doesn’t talk much. It almost scares him too, because she is normally so chatty and sassy. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben doesn’t understand. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How could he not notice Rey was pregnant? Why didn’t she tell him? Does his mother know? Did she even have a hormone imbalance to begin with?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A doctor comes out and Ben expects him to call out for one of the other few people in the room. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But instead, the man marches right up to him and Amelia with a clipboard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re Miss Johnson’s husband?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” Ben corrects quickly, even though his heart skips at the simple mistake. “Is everything okay? I had no idea about this- about her being pregnant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor nods. “Miss Johnson is perfectly fine and so is the baby. There’s just some bruising near her ribs. But her blood pressure suddenly spiked during the scan and she’s currently unconscious in the ultrasound room.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>What?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He’s going to fucking find that white Prius and </span>
  <em>
    <span>gut </span>
  </em>
  <span>those pieces of shit. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Again; she’s going to be okay, and so is the baby,” he calmly assures then flips a few pages on the clipboard. “You weren’t aware of her pregnancy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben shakes his head, feeling like a complete fucking idiot. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-No, I had no idea. We’ve been...discussing it, but she never said anything.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The doctor lands on a page and arches a brow, reading quickly, then looks down to Ben.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think there might be a reason Miss Johnson was keeping everything to herself.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>__</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben revs the engine of the truck this time, now completely sobered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey hasn’t said a single word since she’s woken up besides the answering of </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes </span>
  </em>
  <span>and </span>
  <em>
    <span>no. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She holds Amelia’s hand the entire time, only staring down at the floor and the now five-year old, who looks up to her mother in concern. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all buckle up, still a little shaken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Okay, so they’re more than a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little </span>
  </em>
  <span>shaken. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey looks out to the draining sun, shoulders completely pointed away from him. Amelia is attempting to softly sing </span>
  <em>
    <span>A.D.I.D.A.S </span>
  </em>
  <span>and thankfully only getting the melody right and </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>the lyrics.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia sang that other day too, after their car had broken down and Rey had flipped out. It feels like that was a lifetime ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In some ways, it was. Less than a year ago, Rey and Amelia were living in France. They weren’t even an afterthought to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hell, Amelia wasn’t even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought, </span>
  </em>
  <span>considering he had no idea she even </span>
  <em>
    <span>existed. </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His thoughts just keep circling around and around. Caught in an endless loop.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She’s pregnant. They were alone. Rey had a panic attack. Amelia starts school in three weeks. Rey is pregnant- </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben tries not to think about anything after that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s dazed and exhausted when everyone heads back into the house, throwing their shoes off. Amelia requests to be carried upstairs, and like always, Ben obliges. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey stops following.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stops at the edge of the stairs, eyes finally making her way up to them. They’re drooped and heavy.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You guys go,” she mumbles. “I’m gonna stay down here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s about to call for her but stops.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He watches her slowly stalk back to the living room, feet dragging the entire time.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maman will be okay?” Amelia murmurs when he dresses her in an old </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guitar Hero 3 </span>
  </em>
  <span>shirt for bed. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben twists his mouth, helping her tiny arms through the sleeves. “Yes, your Maman is going to be okay.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can we go back downstairs? I wanna see her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a sigh, he stands back up. “I’m sorry Amelia, but I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I think she wants to be alone.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia shakes her head and pouts her lips.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she whispers back. “She used to cry a lot in <em>le bain</em> and I’d go tap her head like this-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She raises her arm up, expectant of Ben, and he re-lowers down to his knees for Amelia to reach up and softly pat his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-and she always feels better after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The gesture surprises Ben for whatever reason.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like this is not the first time Amelia has comforted her mother alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Because it sure as hell isn’t.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods, rises and tucks his daughter into bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How many days and nights did Rey spend sobbing, with Amelia the only one there to hold her?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go do that right now, okay?” He kisses the small of her forehead, pushing some midnight curls out of the way. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Amelia smiles at him. She loves the nickname. Leia started calling her </span>
  <em>
    <span>sweetheart, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and it’s used by everyone at this point. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she’s properly snuggled into the sheets, Ben heads back downstairs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He finds Rey in the living room, sitting on the floor with her back pressed into the couch and staring out to the dark backyard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the kitchen, Ben grabs two glasses of water and then goes back out to the couch, taking the seat next to her when she makes no noise of disapproval. She takes the water, gulping it down relentlessly, and sets it down on the coffee table the previous home owners left behind. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The doctor told me,” Ben says almost out of the blue,</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels her stiffen next to him. Rey still doesn't talk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not angry at you. At all,” he assures. Because he’s not. It’s the God-honest truth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Concerned? Of course. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But mad? No.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When she remains silent, Ben resorts to Amelia’s solution. He slowly raises his left hand and lightly taps the crown of Rey’s head, like she’d done to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, </span>
  <em>
    <span>finally, </span>
  </em>
  <span>does she look up at him, eyes meeting his. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you...</span>
  <em>
    <span>petting </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, Ben?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He quickly removes his hand like it’s been scalded. Why did he trust a five-year-old to help comfort his...</span>
  <em>
    <span>whatever </span>
  </em>
  <span>they are. Girlfriend? That’s too formal. Partner? Sounds professional. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“N-No, not at all,” he answers. “That’d be weird.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a brief pause. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Amelia used to do that a lot. I always thought it was funny when she did, so I’d laugh and feel better usually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh. So do you want me to…?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey shakes her head, instead scooting closer to him and shockingly, leaning her head on his chest, her arm wrapping around Ben’s torso.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No,” she whispers. “Just hold me. Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like anything Rey or Amelia asks for, Ben does, circling around her shoulders and back of her knees until she’s huddled close to him, the warmths of their bodies now shared.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her voice cracks, so low and so quiet he can hardly hear. It’s masked with a sob, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I d-didn’t want you t-to be sad,” Rey continues, muffled into his chest. “The b-baby is-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-going to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ben interrupts. “And if it won’t, then we’ll get through it together. I’m here for you, Rey. I’m not going anywhere.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The words must hit a particular chord because she only sobs harder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They stay like that for a while, the anguish and fear of the day crashing down on them both. In all honesty, Ben would have been fucking heartbroken if she’d lost the baby today. And he will be if she does, considering how high-risk she currently is. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But none of this is about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>feels. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Does anyone else know?” he manages to ask after she begins taking longer, languid breaths again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your mom figured it out only a few weeks ago. But I didn’t tell her.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>So...Rey’s been going through all this stress, this secret, practically alone and scared shitless the entire time. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Like she most likely did with Amelia. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What would you have done if something had happened to the baby? Would you have never told me anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She freezes again, like she’s been caught in a trap.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben can only sigh. He knows years and years of people leaving her; her parents unwillingly, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>himself, </span>
  </em>
  <span>have done nearly irreversible damage to Rey’s trust. He doesn't know how else to gain it back. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It may just take time, at this point. Patience. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shifts her so that she’s atop his thighs, face still buried in his shirt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rey,” he gently requests, “please look at me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben tips her chin up, but her eyes stay stubbornly shut. It’s exactly what he expected.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stubborn. Wild. <em>Feral</em>.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One of the only people in this very vast world who has loved him nonetheless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A love she’s deserved since the beginning. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>”You’re never going through shit like this </span>
  <em>
    <span>alone </span>
  </em>
  <span>ever again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes slip open, a few tears following.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry- god </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows </span>
  </em>
  <span>how fucking sorry I am," he continues, voice cracking. "But you don’t have to hide anything for the sake of me. I don’t deserve the courtesy, honestly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Rey cracks a slight smile, just enough to stop the onslaught of emotions for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re a team now, aren’t we? Isn’t that what parents are?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nods.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And later, when we’re married-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Married?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Rey abruptly interrupts, like she’s shocked at the idea. “Y-You want to...</span>
  <em>
    <span>marry </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Uhhhh. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Too much Ben Solo, you’re going fucking overboard again you big fucking idi-</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of c-course,” he stutters. “I mean, not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>right </span>
  </em>
  <span>now, and I’m not saying this because of the baby, even though we literally already have a five-year-</span>
  <em>
    <span>mmmnhh-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ben’s suddenly silenced by Rey’s lips, fixed on his so tightly and deeply that his heart launches into his throat. She kisses him hard, his neck craning backwards, her hands twisting the fabric of his shirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He tastes her salty tears. Her warmth breath. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“...I’ve wanted to marry you since I learned my fucking multiplication tables,” Rey whispers, gasping for air. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Hearing her curse like that always...does something to Ben. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s not really the time or place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was a dumb and skinny punk with a bad attitude, and you thought I was </span>
  <em>
    <span>husband </span>
  </em>
  <span>material?” He mockingly </span>
  <em>
    <span>tsks</span>
  </em>
  <span>, kissing down her neck.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You should look at some of my old junior high notebooks,” she half-moans, “I may have been a little...obsessed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He sucks a particular spot in the junction of her neck and shoulder. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good," he whispers to her skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His heart leaps hearing her cry in happiness and not in grief or sorrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I think I’m a little obsessed now, too.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=239vHrwt8Rs">THIS</a> is the song Amelia is trying to sing. </p><p>Benjamin Solo, she is WAY too young to listen to that!!!</p><p>(yet, this is what my own dad was letting me and my sis watch at 4 and 6)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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